


Parting Gift

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Cheating, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Discussion of Abortion, Dubious Consent, Lolita complex, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Teen Pregnancy, Trans Character, Unhealthy Relationships, this is filth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Essentially: Yuri Plisetsky is sixteen and pregnant. He turns to Victor for guidance. Victor is a very, very irresponsible adult.mind the tags. this will quickly get awful. jj/yuri is background noise.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> please for the love of god read the tags.. this fic contains no morality or justice... it is what it is. this idea wouldn't leave me alone. the first chapter is benign but it's going downhill fast into the hell-zone. i started writing this a long time ago, before i'd seen more than two or three episodes, so there are some plot holes that make these events unlikely, but i just don't care. let me know if you spot any spelling errors (i have no beta). thx for reading.

It's three am Japan time when Victor gets the text. It's from Yuri Plisetsky, home in St. Petersburg. 

It reads, simply (in his broken text), "im in trouble, come over please???". 

Victor furrows his brow, cautious to reply. For Yuri, trouble could mean anything, but it's the lack of emojis that really tell him something is wrong. He decides to call him instead. His Yuuri is asleep next to him, so he goes out onto the porch, he's traveling tomorrow and he can't risk keeping him up. 

"Yuri?" He questions as the phone is picked up, waiting for a reply at the end of the line. 

"Hi." He says, shallowly, and Victor is taken aback. He sounds as if he'd been crying. Not throwing-a-tantrum crying, but really crying. His voice is thick with snot.

"What's wrong?" Victor asks. It's a bit chilly outside. He casts a glance back to his Yuuri, who he can see sleeping through the sliding glass door. 

"Could you- would you just come to Russia? I really need some help. You said you'd come if I needed help." Had he said that? Victor blanches. He was always making these strange promises he never remembered. 

"I'm in trouble." He uses those words again, why doesn't he just say what's the matter? Victor frowns. He doesn't exactly have time to deal with a petulant teenager at this hour, but if he was kidnapped or something he supposed he would have to at least contact the authorities. He couldn't possibly be kidnapped, that was stupid. 

"Just tell me what's going on, Yuri, if you don't tell me, I can't help you." He puts on his most professional voice. 

Little Russian Yuri lets out an angry huff, and Victor can hear him breathing on the end of the line, letting out several nervous little  
breathes. 

"I'm pregnant, okay?! They- my parents, put me up in a hotel. I'm supposed to stay here until I have it," his voice is shaking, 

"I-I'm all by myself," then finally, "I'm scared." 

Victor blinks. Pregnant? Well that couldn't be. Unless it could. Which it might. Yuri had always been so private. And so, so small. Feminine frame, long hair, shrill voice. Of course he'd wondered, but he'd never ask. That sort of thing ruined careers. It had gone unspoken between them, an understanding

How old was he? Sixteen? A fresh sixteen. It'd only been several months since March, and that had been his birthday. God, what a mess. 

Victor let out a long sigh. His Yuuri, the one asleep in the other room, would be traveling for the next three months. Competing all over the country. This would certainly classify as a family emergency, he could just slip back to Russia, if only for a month. Get things sorted out for whatever this was. Yuri was packed and ready and the alarm was set for seven. All he'd have to do was park the car instead of taking it back home. Bid Yuuri goodbye and good luck at the airport, and then get on a flight of his own. 

"I suppose," He sighed, a knot in his stomach, "I can get on a flight by morning." 

Little Russian Yuri sighs with relief, sounding as if he'd begun to cry again. 

"Okay-! Okay. Thank you. I'll text you my address... don't tell anyone, okay?" The venom slips back into his voice momentarily, but it's as if he knows he can't afford to be crass,

"You know... you know what it'd do to me." 

Victor gives an affirmative sound, feeling weary and quite his age. 

"I'll see you tonight." Then he hangs up. 

Christ, what a mess. He can't help but feel disappointed, as if this is his own son or daughter. Didn't Yuri know better? Why hadn't he known better? What a stupid boy. Young and stupid. 

He can't get back to sleep so he packs instead. He knows he has to travel light so as not to draw too much attention to himself, but he ends up with two full suitcases anyways. He dresses as inconspicuously as he can bring himself to and sets his sunglasses on the kitchen counter. 

Victor notices the light starting to filter through the kitchen window, so he decides to fix Yuuri breakfast in bed. It's nothing special, but Yuuri is sleepily impressed, sitting up with flushed cheeks and a hazy grin. He kisses him chastely on the mouth.

"I have to go to Russia today," He says frankly, ripping the bandaid off. Yuuri blanches, almost choking on his toast. 

"It's for a family emergency. But I'll be back before you return, so don't worry." He gives Yuuri a reassuring smile that says 'I know I've just said the word emergency, but everything is perfectly alright' and kisses his forehead. 

Yuuri nods obediently, looking a bit put out, but understanding. 

It's 8 am when they get to the airport, luggage in tow. Yuuri is running late, as usual, and he hurries off, almost tripping over himself to quickly turn around again and give Victor a kiss goodbye, then off again. He waves, watching him until he rounds the corner, off to find his gate. 

The next flight to Russia is in an hours time, so he gets coffee, sitting near his gate. 

So, Yuri Plisetsky was pregnant. He wondered, idly, who had possibly done this. He certainly hadn't decided to stick around, judging the frantic phone call. It gave him a bit of pride to know he was the one Yuri would call in his darkest hour. The entire situation was still very unfathomable to him. Was Yuri still so small? He couldn't picture him filling out. He'd have to grow some hips. He was much too slim. The image of Yuri, tiny blonde Yuri, holding his rounded belly was enough to force him to catch himself a bit. He couldn't think such things. He was a child, certainly this wasn't happening. 

The call for his gate was enough to shake him from his thoughts. 

The flight was long and boring, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. The address of the hotel had shown it was near the airport, probably traditionally for tourists coming to see the city, not for hiding little pregnant boys away from paparazzi. He sighed, nervously drumming his fingers. Yuri hadn't said how far along he was. Perhaps he wasn't even showing. For some reason it all made Victor very anxious, to think of him so far along. He wasn't keeping it, was he? What a distressing thought. He hadn't ever remembered Yuri being particularly good with children. 

After several hours of fretting, the plane landed. He exited, bags in tow, and hurried outside the airport, calling a cab. The sky was dark. It looked about dinner time, and about ready to snow. It was hard to get used to the sudden cold of his home, he slipped his winter coat on and pulled up the hood, trying not to draw attention to himself. It was easier to blend in here, where everyone was blonde and tall. It was quite a different story in Japan. 

The cab came relatively quickly and he slipped inside, running his hands through his hair anxiously. The ride was about two minutes. The hotel rose up in the near distance, very tall, relatively modern looking. He wondered if Yuri was looking out the window, if he could see the cab approaching. 

The driver pulled up outside the entrance and Victor paid and tipped accordingly. He refused help for his suitcases, grabbing them both and heading up to the sliding glass doors of the hotel. He gave the receptionist the room number and a wad of cash. She nodded and pointed the direction, giving him the floor as well. 

He headed up into the elevator, heart pounding. Fourth floor. Not very high. He wondered if Yuri had a nice view. He was probably so bored up there, always on his phone. He wondered how long he'd been there. Maybe only a day, maybe a week. Maybe months, and he'd just cracked and finally decided to call. He'd sounded on the phone very panicked, as if this was all a new development. Out of curiosity, as he waited in the elevator, he googled Yuri's full name, scanning the pictures that came up for anything suspicious. There didn't seem to be anything new in the last month, and everything before that he was in his layered sweats he always wore, which Victor was only just realizing could be very forgiving. His instagram was unupdated as well. Some were leaving concerned comments, he usually posted a picture a day. It seemed to be the same timeline, the updates stopped a month ago. He sighed, pocketing his phone as the doors slid open. 

Victor scanned the room numbers along the doors, anxiously walking as they went up and up, finally finding the one he was looking for, and suddenly too afraid to knock. What if he'd made a huge mistake? What if Yuri asked him to leave? What if this was all a big joke and he was going to open the door to Yuri laughing, taking pictures of him, saying he couldn't believe Victor had actually believed him. 

He took a breath, then knocked. 

It was silent for a moment, then a small voice said,

"Who is it?" 

Victor sighed, that was Yuri alright. He didn't have his usual bite, but he was definitely Yuri. 

"It's Victor. I said I'd come, didn't I?" 

More silence. Maybe this was a joke. 

"Okay, doors open." 

He closed his eyes and braced himself, pushing the door open. 

As it turned out, there was no 'just kidding' waiting for him on the other side of the door. Yuri sat on the couch, or laid, more appropriately. He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt and a jacket, unzipped. 

He was bigger than Victor initially imagined. The roundness started just under his tiny breasts, and swelled outwards to rest in his lap. His t-shirt was tight. He was still thin, but there was a softness to him now. In his cheeks, in his chin. Victor found it unbearably attractive before he could  
help himself. His hair had grown a bit longer and fell just above his shoulders, half tied into a messy bun. 

"Hi," He mumbled, breathlessly. 

Yuri blanched, folding his arms across his middle, embarrassed. 

"Hi." 

They stared at each other for a bit, Victor unsure of what to do. He was sure Yuri wouldn't want a hug. And he was even more sure he'd burn if he touched him. 

"Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer." He finally said, grabbing his phone and giving Victor a disdainful, slit eyed glance, going back to scrolling through his instagram feed petulantly. 

"I'm sure you wouldn't want me to do that." He sighed as he moved to sit down next to Yuri, overly conscious of not jostling him. A sliver of his swollen belly peeked out from under his t-shirt and he couldn't help but focus on it, noting how tight the skin was there. He was much too small to be so big. 

The new roundness in his cheeks made him look even younger than he was, which made his entire appearance incredibly jarring. This little pregnant boy plopped onto the couch. Who even knew something like this could happen? 

Yuri made a 'tch' noise, rolling his eyes. 

"So I'm assuming you didn't just find out this morning?" Victor says finally, giving Yuri's belly a telling glance. 

"No. Don't be stupid," He still won't look at him, staring intently down at his phone, 

"I've only really started showing last month. They couldn't keep me at home anymore. Also, they're pissed. I've only been here two days, but it sucks. I don't like to be alone..." He trails off, a little embarrassed,

"Especially like this." 

Victor bites his bottom lip, letting out a heavy sigh. 

"How far-?" He gestured to him, and Yuri scrunched up his nose, placing both hands on his tummy and staring down at it with distaste,

"Six months last week. Stupid, isn't it? I feel disgusting. I can't skate, I can't do anything. I can't even leave the house anymore." Tears begin to roll down those round little cheeks, 

"And I cry all the time!!" He's frustrated now, pink and wiping his face. 

Victor raises his eyebrows, a bit overwhelmed. He isn't used to Yuri, much less this hyper version of him. Like Yuri times ten. 

He wraps an arm around those little shaking shoulders, drawing him in close. Yuri doesn't pull away, just flops against him, sniffling.

"Shh," He mumbles Russian pet names to him, running his hand up and down his upper arm, trying to calm him down, not used to this Yuri who allowed him to touch,

"How did this happen, little one? Talk to me."

Yuri sniffs, rubbing his eyes, 

"I was so stupid. I was so fucking stupid!!" He buries his head in Victor's arm, blinking back his tears, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves up over his hands to catch the salty streaks down his cheeks. 

He shushed him again, patting him, 

"Is he still..? Have you told him? Who is he?" Yuri set his mouth into a grimace, cheeks getting hot. Clearly Victor had breeched a subject that was unacceptable. 

"It's not your business, okay?!" Yuri snapped, shutting down. He'd put his wall back up, pulling sharply away from Victor and hugging himself, bottom lip jutting out like a child who hadn't gotten his way. 

"You called me, so it's my business now." Victor replied firmly. He wouldn't take any lip from Yuri, pregnant or not. 

"You deserve reparations. He should be sending money, whoever he is. This isn't your problem alone." 

Yuri crinkled his pointy nose, the tears on his cheeks mostly dried. He avoided Victor's gaze, glancing away from him,

"It's- ugh," He lets out a huff, furrowing his eyebrows as if he was trying to drum up the courage, "It's stupid JJ. It was him. I don't really... I didn't plan it, okay?" 

Victor raises his eyebrow, holding in a laugh. Yuri had always spit fire at the boy, it was obvious now, that he considered all other options,

"And does he know?" 

Yuri scowled, "Of course he knows. He doesn't care. He tried to give me- y'know," He looked ashamed, "Abortion money. He said he'd pay to get rid of it. Since he's engaged, and all." 

Yuri let out a long sigh, "And I freaked out. I was just mad that he wasn't- that he wasn't prioritizing me, I don't know. And then my parents found out, and they weren't about to sign off on something like that. I probably just should've done it. Saved myself the trouble." He glanced back down at his rounded stomach, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

"I didn't even know," He sniffed bitterly, "That I could, um. Have babies." 

Victor nods sympathetically, his large hand rubbing circles on Yuri's pointy back, listening intently. 

"I've only had, maybe two or three periods. Just because I'm small. I thought it'd be okay." Victor frowns, jarred yet again by another harsh reminder of Yuri's unfortunate youth. 

"Anyways, it's too late now, to fix it. So I just have to have it and then I'm giving it up." Yuri nods curtly, fixed in his choice. 

Victor agrees silently that this is probably the best option. He just hopes that this won't put a stop to Yuri's career, that had already had such a wonderful start. 

"Well," Victor announces with a sigh, feeling aged by the situation, "Why don't I make us some dinner?" 

Yuri rolls his eyes, "Just what I need," he quips, bitingly, "To get fatter." 

Victor shushes him, standing up to peruse the tiny kitchen. The fridge was almost empty. There was some microwave dinners and fruit. Completely unacceptable. He went through the cupboards, nothing but cereal and crackers. 

"Is this what you've been living off?" He calls, peering back to the couch where Yuri had returned to his phone, scrolling lazily. He replied with a shrug.

"You need some nutrients! Have you been taking your vitamins?" 

"I don't need vitamins, it's not like I'm keeping it." Came Yuri's irritated reply. 

Victor slammed a cupboard shut, causing Yuri to jump and almost drop his phone,

"Someone is getting that baby, Yurotchka, don't be ridiculous." His eyes were narrowed, clearly frustrated with the young boy.

"Put away your phone. You're responsible for this baby at the time being and there's nothing either of us can do about it, so you need to start acting like it." Yuri crossed his arms tight across his chest, avoiding Victor's accusatory gaze, cheeks pink with the embarrassment of being scolded.

"Fine, fine, old man." He replied, clearly subdued by the reprimanding.

"We have to go to the grocery store to get you some real food," Victor takes a note pad off the refrigerator and rifles around for a pen, starting up a list, 

"And prenatal vitamins," He chews on the top of the pen, thinking, "And some lotion, too. Don't want any stretchmarks, right, Yurio?" He smirks at him and Yuri slumps in his seat, clearly embarrassed.

"S'not my name. And I'm not going out like this! Do you think I'm stupid? There'd be a field day if anyone saw me like this." 

Victor chuckled, "No ones going to recognize you! At least, not when I'm through with you." Yuri's petulant stare turns into something a bit more horrified,

"What-?" 

Victor moved to rifle through his suit case, pulling out clothes and jackets and scarves, 

"You're going to be my little wife, and we're going to look perfectly acceptable." 

Yuri's face twisted into one of disgust, his little nose wrinkling up, "I'm not doing that! That's stupid!" 

Victor rolled his eyes, "Then you're going to get caught, little one." 

He tossed some leggings, a dress, then a sweater at Yuri. 

"And here's a scarf," He said finally, "To cover up that mouth of yours." 

Yuri stuck out his tongue, reluctantly getting up to change in his room. 

Victor swapped out his stylish coat for something a bit more modest. He wrapped a scarf around his neck. He wasn't entirely unrecognizable, but definitely not attention grabbing. He'd gone out like this before unbothered. 

He put his hands in his coat pockets, waiting patiently. He took a little time to get a better look at where Yuri had been staying. The couch was covered in blankets, there was chip wrappers all over the coffee table. A small tv, a cabinet with a mirror, which Victor noticed Yuri had covered with a black jacket. He frowned. Yuri really had made quite the mess for himself. 

Inside the room, Yuri was pacing. How dare Victor come into his living space and force him into all this? For all intents and purposes, this was not his baby, even though it had unfortunately decided to house itself inside him, temporarily. He looked disdainfully down at his belly, wrinkling up his nose. It had been so much easier when he couldn't even see it. No one had bothered him about it, then. Now he had to live in a little room. Now Victor got to boss him around. Now his own parents couldn't even look at him. He could barely look at himself. 

His eyes fell back on the pile of clothes Victor had thrown at him. He had barely been outside in a month. The idea appealed to him, just being able to get some fresh air sounded nice. But under Victor's terms? How had he fallen so far from grace.

Scowling, he shucked off his comfortable clothes and replaced them with a long sleeved black shirt, then over top of it a lose cotton pinafore. It didn't hide his bump at all, in fact, the way it was cut, tapering off right under his breasts, it all but accentuated it. He let his hair down, wrapping the scarf around his neck and letting it cover his mouth. He yanked up the leggings with mild irritation, they had to be Yuuri's, and then threw the oversized cardigan over top, which had to be Victor's. 

Yuri tugged the sheet off his bedroom mirror to see if his costume was convincing. Certainly no one on the street would see Yuri Plisetsky if he walked past them. In these clothes, he passed easily for some Russian girl of ambiguous age, clearly pregnant, but otherwise, clearly not anything special. It was half a comfort to not see himself in the mirror, but he was otherwise horrified he could even look like this. 

He forced himself out of the room and grimaced at the absolute look of delight on Victor's face, no doubt that his brilliant plan had worked.

"Well, aren't you darling," Victor adjusts Yuri's sweater, straightens out his scarf,

"Here- the final detail," He brings up his left hand and takes the ring off his finger, picking up Yuri's tiny hand and sliding it onto his. It's far too big. 

"There. Don't lose it." Yuri's cheeks burn. He narrows his eyes at Victor. Now he has the pig's leggings and ring, and to the horror of Yuri, only one of them fit. 

"This is so fucking stupid, Vitya-" He begins, and Victor cuts him off with a sharp raise of his hand, 

"Please, call me Dmitry. And you're Yulia, now. And we're married." It takes everything in Yuri not to smack Victor's hand out of his face. He sighs, giving the older man one last petulant look before stomping ahead of him, towards the door.

"Fine. Let's go already." 

"Let's go already, what?" A snicker,

"I'm not calling you that inside!" 

The door slams behind them.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go shopping. Victor is a bad man. Yuri reconnects with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 ya boy. there's sexual content in the end of this chapter. please mind the tags.

Victor was thrilled. He was always an extravagant man, and forcing Yuri Plisetsky into his Yuuri's old clothes for a game of dress up is something he'd only imagined in his dreams. Of course, the pregnancy was an added detail he hadn't been quite creative enough to add, but certainly wasn't unwelcome. 

Yuri looked absolutely common, it almost shocked him; he seemed to be playing his part well enough, dutifully holding Victor's arm as they crossed the street. Keeping his eyes downward. It was delicious. 

Victor did notice how, unlike most pregnant women, Yuri did not touch his stomach while he walked, or much at all. He seemed to even avoid letting his arms brush against his sides. He wondered idly if he would let someone else touch it, if prompted. 

When they entered the super market, Victor moved his arm to rest his hand flat on the small of Yuri's back, steering him towards the vitamins. He noticed immediately how Yuri tensed up at the touch, somewhat startled. 

"Alright, darling," He began, gesturing to the array of pink-bottled vitamins on the shelves in front of them, "Which one?" 

Yuri looked up at him, he could see that his cheeks were flushed all the way past his scarf from this little game of husband and wife. 

"I don't give a shit," he quipped, tugging his scarf down past his lips to speak, "The cheapest one, I guess." 

"Language." Victor scolded, squatting down to take a look at all the different labels. He didn't quite know the difference, either, but he wasn't about to let Yuri get away with anything 'cheap'. 

"This one," He said, turning to Yuri with bottle in hand, "Its got a baby carriage on it." 

Yuri looked at him for a moment before rolling his eyes and snatching it away from him. 

"Fine." 

"Hey, hey," Victor interrupted, plucking the bottle from Yuri's hands, "I'm paying." 

Yuri looks a second away from exploding, all shamefaced, eyes watering. Victor had always footed Yuri's bill, particularly when he was much younger and they skated together. He'd quietly paid for new shoes, for dinner, for costumes. His grandfather had, of course, been grateful, but Yuri was a force to be reckoned with. Always wanting to do everything by himself, too prideful to accept anyone's help, much less their money. Victor could barely imagine how Yuri managed to call him down to help, but he couldn't stop himself from giving this as well. It was one part generosity and two parts a sickening satisfaction that someone relied on him, not that he'd say it out loud. 

"Vitya." Yuri said firmly, blinking, "Give it to me. Give it to me, or I'll scream." 

"Oh, now now, Yulia. Don't have a tantrum. Don't want anyone thinking you're a child, do we?" He said this louder than Yuri, a woman a few feet away from them was peering over curiously. 

Yuri looked back and forth between Victor and the woman, feeling trapped. His pride, his damn pride, it wasn't like he had anything left at this point. He swallowed down angry tears and nodded, a new understanding between them. Victor would be paying today. 

He smiled, then nodded at the woman, and led little Yuri away, 

"In that case, we'll be needing a cart!" 

It was only an hour more they were inside the super market, but Victor seemed intent upon buying it out. He'd bought a blender, fruits and vegetables, granola bars, eggs, flour, sugar, more noodles than Yuri could count, and several pots and pans. 

"Yuratchka, what about this?" He'd ask, holding up any number of absolutely useless things, and Yuri would roll his eyes. Victor, who took this as confirmation, would toss it in the cart. 

"You need some meat on your bones," Victor drawled, pinching Yuri's cheek, "What's your favorite ice cream?" 

"I don't like ice cream." He was lying. 

"Well, I suppose we'll just get them all, then." 

"Chocolate! Just get chocolate, stupid!"

Victor conceded, and by that time the cart was nearly overflowing. 

"How are we going to walk all of this back to the hotel?" Yuri asked, clearly irritated as they pushed their cart through the check out line. He wasn't about to look at the price. 

"We'll call a cab. It's only a block or two." Yuri rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Victor's frivolity. The woman at the check out eyed Yuri closely, it made him nervous. Victor put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him flush to his side. It took all of Yuri's power not to jerk away, but he really had to put on a show, now.

"It's our first baby." Victor informed the check out woman when she continued to gaze down at tiny Yuri. 

"Ah," She said raising her eyebrows, "Congratulations." 

Victor gave Yuri a pat on his rounded stomach and he grimaced, turning away to load the bags back into the cart. 

The total of the shopping trip was well into what Yuri would consider frivolous, certainly on the higher end of triple digits, but Victor didn't bat an eye, simply handed over his card. The check out woman continued to stare at Yuri even as he walked away, arm in arm with Victor, concerned. 

When they finally returned to the hotel Yuri was exhausted, hungry, and grumpy. He laid on the couch and watched Victor put the groceries away, head propped up on a bunched up blanket, dress still on. He was too tired to change. 

Victor tried to organize the kitchen a bit, attempting to make sense of the numerous bags of chips Yuri had tossed into the cupboards. Every so often, he caught Yuri's eye. He looked beautiful strewn out on the couch, his scarf abandoned, pale hair spread out underneath him. His cheeks were a little flushed from the walk upstairs and he rested one, small hand at the highest point of his belly. It was rare to see him appear somewhat motherly. 

The languid illusion of him was somewhat broken when he half sits up on his elbows and yells, "Vitya! I'm hungry!" 

Victor chuckled breathily and nods, 

"Patience, little one." 

Once everything is put away he turned on the oven and the stove, setting out all of the correct ingredients for a dish he'd learned in Italy that: 1. His own Yuuri loved, and 2. Was particularly calorie laden. 

He boiled water, got his noodles ready, and started preparing alfredo sauce, and some chicken, to top it all off. He knew Yuri was picky about food that wasn't Russian, but he was confident he wouldn't turn down this. 

Yuri watched him skeptically from the couch, peeking up above his phone every so often. Victor would wink when they met eyes, and he'd would glance away quickly, back to his phone. 

"Stop torturing yourself with that thing," He said while he poured an unholy amount of cheese into his sauce, "You're just looking at other people's pictures, aren't you?" 

Yuri crossed his arm, scowling at Victor,

"I can't get out of the loop! I don't want to miss out on anything." 

Victor shrugged, stirring, "Maybe it'd be good for you." 

"You don't know what's good for me, old man." Victor laughed. That was probably true. 

Yuri, meanwhile, composed a post of his own, using an old picture he'd taken of his cat. 

'i'm sick and i won't be posting skating progress for a few months until i'm better. i'm not dying. i promise. #icetigerofrussia #fuckthis #cats #persiancats' 

Immediately the post is viral, he's flooded with well wishes, people asking him what's wrong, people complimenting his cat. He doesn't reply to anyone. He sets his phone down. 

After his brief leave from instagram that began when he stopped being able to hide the roundness in his stomach, in his cheeks, only one person had bothered to check up on him. Otabek Altin had sent him numerous texts, asking him what he was up to, and eventually, what was wrong. They'd kept in close contact after the Grand Prix, texting at least daily, but after what had happened, Yuri had stopped replying. 

He felt funny about it, as if he could pretend to everyone, but he couldn't quite trust himself to pretend to Otabek, and he wasn't about to tell him. It was too shameful, too embarrassing. He'd be disgusted with him. 

Yuri's phone lit up with a text, from Otabek of course. He'd seen the post. 

It simply read: Get well soon. 

Yuri frowned, considering a reply. Before he could think too deeply about it, Victor sat down next to him, offering him a full, hot plate. Yuri set down his phone again. 

"I made pasta, with creamy white sauce, and grilled chicken. Protein, and carbs. I also brought you this," He set down a big glass of water and two of, what Yuri assumed, were the prenatal vitamins. 

"Eat up." 

Yuri picked up his fork, moving the noodles around suspiciously. They looked a bit strange, but smelled good, and he hadn't had anything home cooked since he couldn't remember when. He took a cautious bite. 

It was good. Really, really good. He felt a twinge of jealously that the Piggy ate like this every night. Victor's home cooked delicacies from around the globe. Stupid. 

He took another bite, this time, more confidently. Victor looked smug, and Yuri was embarrassed to note that all he was having was a strange looking green smoothie. 

"What is that?" He asked, mouth full,

"Kale smoothie," Victor replied cooly, lifting a thumb to wipe the corner of Yuri's lip, "Are you enjoying your dinner?" 

Yuri nodded, though the answer was obvious. 

"Are you enjoying your stupid smoothie?" He asked, turning to Victor with a smirk,

"It's lovely," He replied curtly, "I don't have any excuse to eat heavy cream, unlike you." 

Yuri wrinkled his nose, trying not to think about how many calories he was consuming. If Lilia could see him now, she'd be furious. 

Both Lilia and Yakov were under the impression that Yuri had contracted a mysterious illness, and was being put up in a special hospital in Moscow. This lie was supported by the amount of times Yuri had ran off the rink during practices to throw up in a nearby trash can. Yuri had an idea that Lilia had a hint of what was going on, but she hadn't spoken of it, and he was grateful for that. They both asked to visit and were politely refused. The only one who had seen Yuri at all was Victor, and his grandpa, who came once a week with piroshki. 

It made Yuri a little sad to see his grandpa, just because he knew he'd disappointed him. 

"Whatever," He mumbled, finishing off his last two bites, "It was good." 

That was as close to a thank you as Victor would get, and it was good enough for him. 

He ruffled Yuri's hair, 

"It's late. Where do you sleep?" 

Yuri frowned, shrugging, "I have a bed, but I usually just sleep here." He gestured to the couch, "It's too big. In the bed, anyways." 

He didn't like sleeping with all the empty space around him. He'd taken to piling all the blankets onto the couch and curling up there, leaving the tv on the news and letting it play while he was asleep. 

"Do you want me to take the bed?" Victor asked, 

"I don't care." Yuri was being short with him, now. He was full and it was starting to make him tired, and starting to make him want to put his sweatpants back on.

After some bartering, a deal was made. Victor would take the bed, but he'd give Yuri most of his pillows and use his own blanket. Yuri padded over into the bedroom to change into his pajamas, Victor did the same in the living room. 

If he was being completely honest with himself, Victor wouldn't mind sharing a bed with Yuri. They had before, when Yuri was very young, and Victor had enjoyed the way he'd held so tightly onto him in his sleep. Then again, Yuri had been a lot more affectionate back then. When had he started to go sour? 

Yuri walked back into the living room, wearing an oversized nightshirt that hung off his pale little shoulders and a pair of ill fitting pajama shorts. Victor had his plaid matching fleece set on. 

"Where's that lotion you got?" Yuri asked, in a borderline accusatory tone, as if Victor had hidden it somewhere. 

"I put it in the bathroom. Why?" Yuri blanched looking a bit shy, all of a sudden,

"Will I really-" He swallowed, "Will I get stretch marks if I don't?" Victor stifled a laugh, he'd put a little concern into the boy.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't have some, already." Yuri huffed meanly. How cruel.

"Well, I don't exactly look at it often!" He snapped,

"Alright, alright, calm down," Victor got up from his place on the couch, gesturing for Yuri to stay seated in his little makeshift bed on the couch.

He strolled into the bathroom and plucked the lotion from its place in the drug cabinet. It wasn't anything special, just some cocoa butter-shea butter- something or other. 

Victor brought it back to Yuri, sitting down next to him. 

"Lay down." He quipped, and Yuri shifted in protest,

"What are you-?" Victor shushed him, squirting some lotion into his palms and warming it up,

"Just relax. Stop complaining, Yuratchka. You'll give yourself a rash." 

"Will I?!" Yuri croaked, but Victor smirked, Yuri was always so easily set off. The boy lay down anyways, and allowed Victor to delicately lift up his shirt. 

It really was something. Yuri's belly, full of pasta, at this point, was perfectly round. His young skin had stretched with fairly few consequences, save for tiny white lines that traced each hip. Victor wouldn't tell Yuri about those. He placed his hands on either side of his stomach and began to rub in the lotion. Yuri was instantly embarrassed, pink in the cheeks, but Victor could hear his breath hitch, and then his eyes slipped shut. He needed to relax once in a while. 

Victor ran his thumbs along the skin in circular motion, massaging. He wondered if Yuri had ever felt the baby move. He wondered, perhaps, if he'd be able to feel. 

It was difficult for Victor to justify some of the things that he did. Yuri was in trouble, so, like a good friend and mentor, he had come to assist him. Yuri needed food, like a responsible adult, he had provided it. Yuri needed comfort, so he had tried his best to show him kindness and warmth. Those were all perfectly reasonable things he had done for the boy. What any good person would do. 

What Yuri most likely did not need (not that Victor considered himself an expert on the matter), was Victor letting himself pretend, at that moment, that little Yuri Plisetsky was round and full with his baby. That he'd made Yuri slick between his slender thighs, that he'd made him beg, that he'd become so overcome by want he'd allowed Victor to fuck him pregnant. It should've been him, not that haughty JJ, who couldn't even provide for him, who wouldn't. No, if it had been Victor, he would've given Yuri everything. Yuri would've been overjoyed to have Victor's baby inside him, to become big and swollen enough that everyone knew exactly what he'd done. Sixteen or otherwise, Victor would've taken excellent care of him. 

He bit his lip, trying not to focus on the way Yuri's pale eyelashes fluttered, or the youthful plumpness of his bottom lip. He had someone else at home. 

Victor pulled his hands back sharply at the thought of Yuuri, swallowing hard. He rubbed the excess lotion into his hands. Yuri peered up at him, more sleepy than surprised. 

"I better get to bed." Victor said blankly, and Yuri frowned, yanking his shirt down over his tummy and rolling over onto his side. Victor haphazardly tugged a blanket overtop of him. 

"Alright, old man. Don't wake me up early." 

Victor only nodded in response, walking cautiously back to the bedroom and shutting the door. 

He sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh, setting the lotion down on his bedside table. He put two pumps of it into his hands and warmed it up. 

Victor couldn't justify everything he did. It was good of him to travel here. To help out. To show Yuri some kindness. And so, when he came into his hand with a whispered shout, thinking of none other but Yuri Plisetsky riding his cock, enormously pregnant and complaining vocally about how big and heavy Victor had made him, and how he'd ruined him, he decided, simply, to file it away in his list of unjustifiable things. 

He'd never promised he was a good man, after all. 

In the other room, Yuri picks up his phone. He texts Otabek Altin one word: thx.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ makes his (not-so) grand entrance, and exit. Yuri gets his compensation.

It was to Victor's great surprise the next morning that he didn't have to wake Yuri at all, in fact, he could hear Yuri yelling into the phone as early as eight in the morning. 

"What do you mean-?!" 

"No, you asshole," 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

Half of a conversation that Victor was glad not to be on the other end of. 

"If you show up, I'll throw a fit, I'm telling you-" 

"No, you leave me alone!" 

There was a loud noise, eerily familiar to the sound of a phone hitting a wall, and then Yuri burst into the room in all his teenaged glory. 

He was still in his nightshirt, his hair messy from sleep, somehow in the night, he'd lost his shorts. His cheeks were pink with frustration, his blue eyes bleary with those little angry tears Victor had become so familiar with over the past day. 

Victor sat up on his elbows, watching as little Yuri stormed across the room, and then crawled up onto the bed. He climbed across Victor haphazardly and reached over, on all fours, to grab the hotel landline that sat on the bedside table.

He punched numbers in furiously. Victor stiffened slightly as he realized Yuri was practically laying across his lap, his heavy tummy brushing against his thighs as the boy stretched over him. What a way to wake up. 

"Hello?!" Yuri answered as the phone picked up, and Victor felt sorry for whoever was working the front desk that day.

"It's room 411, if anyone, I mean anyone, asks who the fuck is staying in this room..." 

"Yes, I know. We're paying goddamn extra for it,"

"Just- if anyone asks, I'm not fucking here, okay?!" He slammed the phone onto the receiver. 

Yuri was breathing a bit shallowly, he pushed himself back to sit on his knees. Victor's legs felt cold. 

"Has something happened?" He finally spoke, a bit afraid he'd be waking a sleeping giant the way Yuri had been behaving this morning,

"Don't be stupid." He said coldly, sniffing back tears, "Everything is fucking perfect." 

Victor chuckled, reaching over to tuck some of Yuri's hair behind his ear, seeing how much he could get away with. Yuri didn't slap his hand away, 

"Tell me what's wrong, little one." 

Yuri sighed, exasperated, "Well, I broke my phone, first of all," 

"We'll get a new one." Victor cut in.

"JJ won't stop calling me. He says he's coming to see me." 

Victor raised his eyebrows. That could be an issue. 

"And why is that?"

Yuri looks downward, those sweet blonde eyelashes casting little shadows on his plump cheeks. His bottom lip is shaking.

"Because I lied to him. And I told him I had the abortion. And then he saw my post-" Those are the only words he manages to get out before he dissolves completely into angry, distressed tears, little shoulders shaking. 

Victor is shocked. Yuri really had gotten himself into trouble. He was a little mess of a boy, but of course, as always, Victor would be there to help him clean it up; he had his reasons. 

He reached over to smooth down Yuri's hair, to rub his back. To his surprise, Yuri leaned into his touch, seeming to be looking for comfort over everything else at the moment. He leaned in to Victor's side, heavy against him, still trembling. 

It was a pity how beautiful Yuri looked when he cried. Victor had admired it on the ice, and he admired it now. Big fat tears rolling down those darling cheeks, the way he hiccuped and whimpered. It wasn't that Victor liked to see him sad, which half felt like a lie, it was more that Victor liked to see Yuri in a state where he needed comforting. He liked to see him desperate. Needy. 

He thumbed away at the boys tears, shushing him, cupping his sweet little face in his hands. 

"Yuratchka... you've got to talk to this boy," Yuri shook his head, pouting, his hair becoming more tangled as he moved against Victor's hands,

"I don't have to! I don't have to do anything," His voice was thick with tears and Victor frowned, still wiping at his eyes,

"You lied to him, and now you owe him an apology. Maybe he'll want to help out! You can't afford to be acting like this, little one." 

Yuri scowled and folded his arms right across his chest, shutting himself off.

"Why don't you lay down. I'll talk to JJ. Stress isn't good for you." 

Yuri looked like he was about to protest, but instead, he laid back against the pillows, little hands folding sweetly over his belly. His eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows were furrowed. 

"Fine. But don't say anything stupid." 

Victor laughed coldly,

"I'll try my best." 

He walked into the living room, sure enough, finding Yuri's cracked phone on the ground. It wasn't broken, but the screen was shattered. Holding it gingerly as to not get any shards into his thumbs, he turned it on and clicked onto Yuri's messenger, finding a contact titled "canadian asshole" and decided it couldn't possibly be anyone else. 

The contact had at least thirty messages that Yuri had not replied to, and all of them were along the lines of: "txt me back? pls?" "yuri im serious" "pls call me" "im coming over" 

He clicked call, and held the phone to his ear, waiting. It didn't take long, after about two rings, JJ picked up, sounding frantic,

"Yuri?! Yuri, babe, please talk to me," 

Victor cut him off, "Not Yuri. Victor. Hello." 

Immediately, JJ was trying to mask the nervousness in his voice, 

"Oh," He laughed weakly, "Hey, Victor! What's up? Why do you, uh- is this your phone?" 

"Yuri is currently indisposed right now. He wanted me to talk to you." 

"Oh." He says again. Victor can hear him let out a heavy sigh, "So I'm assuming you know?" 

"I'm with him, actually. It's definitely obvious." 

JJ sighs again, "Shit." 

"Listen, JJ, he's very easily upset right now. He's not keeping it. I'm sure he would've gone through with the original plan if his family hadn't intervened." Victor felt like a lawyer,

"I just wanna see him. I know he's pissed but, y'know, it's my kid, too." 

"JJ..." Victor's voice softened and he leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to make him understand, "He's a kid, too, if you're haven't noticed." 

JJ was silent for a moment. Victor bit the inside of his cheek. This was not exactly his battle to fight, but here he was, while Yuri lounged in the bedroom. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just- ah," He was grasping at straws, "Could I just fly down, just for dinner? I won't even stay at the same hotel as you guys... can we just meet up? To talk?" 

Victor frowned, uncomfortable with having to make this split second decision on Yuri's behalf.

"Um-" he swallowed, "Yes. Alright. We'll meet you. But please, no scene, JJ. You know the media has to be kept out of this."

"Yeah. Okay. Of course. Yeah," He stuttered, "I'll be there. Around seven, okay? Just tell me where." 

They said their goodbyes and Victor hung up, still being gentle with Yuri's phone. 

He popped the phone into his pocket and walked back into the bedroom, a bit relieved to find that Yuri had fallen asleep in bed. He was curled up on his side, his hand resting on his belly, and his breathing even and slow. 

Yuri looked much younger while he was sleeping, all tenseness and harshness gone from his face, his eyelashes flush against his cheeks. He looked almost angelic like this; the Virgin Mary was only fifteen, after all. 

He pulled the covers over Yuri, leaning down to kiss his head before he could help himself. To his relief, Yuri didn't budge. Victor wondered if he'd slept much on that couch. 

He turned out the light as he left the room, deciding to make him and Yuri both some breakfast. 

His Yuuri had always enjoyed his fluffy scrambled eggs, so he figured little Russian Yuri would as well, with lots of toast and butter, and maybe even some bacon. 

Victor took his time with breakfast, wanting to give Yuri some time to rest. He didn't bother with trays, using several large plates instead, filling one with toast, one with eggs, and one with bacon and sausages. 

He brought them in, peering inside, pleased that Yuri was exactly where he'd left him. 

"Yuratchka..." He called, watching as Yuri rubbed his eyes sleepily and blearily blinked at him, Victor (cruelly) turned on the lights. 

Yuri groaned and pulled the blanket over his eyes. 

"Don't be a brat. I made breakfast." Yuri was half appeased by this and sat up again, still looking a bit grumpy. 

"Are you hungry?" Yuri didn't answer but he snatched a piece of toast right off the plate Victor was holding, so he took that as a yes. 

Victor set down the plates full of food on the bedside table and passed Yuri an empty one, and a fork. 

Yuri loaded up his plate, much to Victor's satisfaction. Victor's was modest in comparison, just some eggs and toast, whereas Yuri had grabbed a lot of everything. 

"I spoke to JJ on the phone." Victor said when Yuri had stuffed at least half his breakfast into his face. 

"What'd he say?" He replied with his mouth full, pretending not to look too interested. 

"We're meeting him for dinner tonight." 

If Yuri hadn't been enjoying his food so much, he would've spit it out. Instead, he swallowed it hard, grimacing.

"What?!-I'm not fucking doing that." Yuri spat, glaring at Victor as hard as he could,

"You were supposed to make him go away! Not do... this!" He threw his little hands up in the air, putting down his plate in a small act of rebellion. 

"Darling," Victor crooned, being extremely gentle, "He only want to talk, and then we can go. You owe him that much." 

"I don't owe him anything!" Yuri snapped, folding his arms tightly across his chest, 

"This is all his fault, anyways! And he gets to just get away with it... because no one can see!" 

"That's why we're doing this, little one. So he can give you what you deserve, just talk to him."

And so, with Victor's affirmations that no harm would come to him, that Yuri would get compensation, and several more fits, he agreed to go to dinner. 

Yuri picked the restaurant, a traditional Russian place with lots of comfort food. Victor texted JJ the address, still trying to avoid glass in his thumbs. They'd have to get that phone fixed eventually. 

Victor made reservations, asking for a very private table. JJ texted back that it would be his treat. Victor figured that was a good sign for the day to come. 

Yuri lounged around in bed for most of the day. He took a bath around four after complaining loudly that he felt disgusting, and was in hidden away for almost two hours. 

When he returned, his hair was perfectly styled. Shiny and clean, smelling faintly of strawberries. He wore only a bathrobe that he'd tied just above where his bump began, creating sort of an empire waist that was not very forgiving at all, highlighting his roundness in a way that Victor could simply not look away from. The steam from his bath followed him out into the living room and everything smelled of cocoa butter and Yuri's shampoo. 

"What do I have to wear this time?" He asked, hand cocked on his hip. 

Victor raised his eyebrows, still looking him up and down, a bit sparse for words at the moment. 

"Um," He said finally, "No dress code. We'll take a rental care there that I've arranged with the hotel. Our table is private. Just don't look too flashy." 

Yuri nodded, pleased with that answer. He was embarrassed enough seeing JJ, looking the way he did, he couldn't imagine being forced to do it in a dress on top of everything else. 

While Yuri busied himself in the bedroom getting dressed, Victor took a shower. He used Yuri's shampoo and body wash, thinking about how his skin must smell like strawberries and cream. He wondered, vaguely, if those little tits had started leaking yet. That would really be something to see. He wondered if the milk would taste just as sweet as Yuri smelled. If only that baby belonged to him, oh, it'd be such a different story. No hiding, no secret dinners. Just Yuri, plump and spoiled, getting fucked well and often. Maybe next time, he consolidated. Catholic parents; no birth control. 

He came once down the drain and rinsed his conditioner out of his hair. If only Yuri knew how happy Victor could make him. Then, maybe they could take JJ out of the picture all together. He'd make Yuri his little wife, and he'd be so well kept. Always pregnant. 

Victor got out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on some neutral looking clothing. A button up and some nice black slacks. They were both designer, but, his lack of a suit jacket made him look somewhat common. He took his time styling his hair perfectly, using the hotel blowdryer. He used Yuri's cocoa butter lotion on his hands, smirking slightly at a memory from the night before. 

"Alright," He called, stepping out of the bathroom, dressed and ready, "We'd better get a move on." 

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri called sharply from the other room. 

Victor grabbed his wool coat from the top of his suitcase and put it on, trying to find a pair of shoes that weren't so incredibly shiny. He settled on his only more subtle pair of dress shoes he hadn't worn in years.

He walked out into the living room to find Yuri dressed and ready. He wore black leggings and sneakers, a tshirt that was tight around his middle, and a baggy denim jacket covered in patches. He looked grumpy, and so obviously still trying to take part in teen rebellion, although his perfectly rounded belly threw off the look entirely. Victor was utterly smitten. 

"You look fetching." He smirked, ruffling Yuri's carefully straightened hair. Yuri wrinkled up his little button nose and batted his hand away. 

As they walked downstairs, Victor kept a protective arm around Yuri's shoulders, half to keep him close, and half to cover his face. No one had looked too particularly hard at them. The evening was going off without a hitch so far. 

Victor's rental car was brought to the front of the hotel by a valet. He'd forced himself to get something that would blend in with the Russian cars on the road and found himself begrudgingly driving a stick shift. 

Yuri sat in the passenger seat, flicking through the radio stations impatiently. Victor had scolded him into putting his seat belt on, and he had, but in protest he put his sneakers up on the dashboard and sat low in his seat, head lolling back against the rest to gaze out the window at the city. Victor glanced over at him at every stoplight, particularly enchanted with the little nymph while he relaxed, forehead pressed against the window. Victor wondered if he was nervous. 

They pulled up to the restaurant five minutes after seven, somewhat on time. JJ's flashy car was no where to be found, and Victor was glad to see he'd followed directions. 

They walked up to the women at the counter, Victor stated his last name only, and she brought both of them back to the far end of the restaurant. 

Their table was in an alcove, partially secluded from the rest of the restaurant. Victor was pleased to notice that many of the filled tables were at the opposite end of the room. They would have privacy here. He wondered if JJ had paid extra for it. 

JJ was seated at the end of the table, looking very much like a kicked dog. His normal confidence was subdued, he wore a polo t-shirt and jacket instead of his usual monogrammed clothes, and his hair wasn't half as spectacular as it typically was on the ice. He looked exhausted, fresh off a long flight. 

He stood to greet the pair, Victor politely shook his hand, as if they were going to do business, but Yuri had frozen a few steps behind him, staring anywhere but in front of him. JJ seemed to be taking in Yuri's appearance, fixated on his stomach, his eyes softening in a way Victor didn't like. He bent slightly, to be on Yuri's level, taking one of his little hands in his and kissing it,

"Hey, princess," He said softly, trying to win a smile. 

Yuri blinked up at him and yanked his hand back, scowling, "Don't call me that." 

They all sat down. 

It was awkward. The waitress came to fill their cups with water. Yuri asked for a fancy soda, Victor ordered a bottle of wine for him and JJ to share. 

Yuri seemed to be intent on keeping his eyes down and on his menu the entire time, whereas JJ stared straight at him, clearly trying to get some sort of response. 

Victor cleared his throat. 

"So, ah, I know this is difficult for everyone, but, we ought to work out some sort of terms, isn't that right?" He turned to Yuri, who still didn't look up. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." 

"I'm not going to apologize," Yuri mumbled in Russian, only to Victor. JJ fidgeted nervously. The only common language between them all was English, and if Yuri was determined not to speak it the entire meeting, solutions be damned. 

Victor gave Yuri a stern look, then turned back to JJ.

"Anyways, you agree that it's a good idea for Yuri to give the child up for adoption. He couldn't possibly raise it, I think we all know that-" He was cut off by the woman bringing their drinks back. He was half grateful. He needed some wine. 

Once she was gone, Yuri put his elbow on the table, propping up his head with his hand and sipping petulantly on his sparkling red soda, still intent on avoiding the conversation. 

"Are we in agreement on that?" Yuri chewed on his straw.

"If that's what he wants, of course." JJ replies, taking sullen sip from his glass,

"It's not entirely my decision, I mean- you understand the position I'm in." He glanced down at his wedding band, 

"I can't exactly claim it, or at least, I'd like to avoid that." 

Victor nodded understandingly. His own wedding band felt heavy on his finger. 

"Any thoughts, Yuri?" 

Yuri peeked up from under his bangs, releasing the straw from between his lips. They were stained pink from his drink,

"I think you're an asshole." 

JJ smiled weakly. At least he was talking. 

"Alright, kitten, let's not rehash the dramatics, eh?" Yuri rolled his eyes at that ridiculous nickname, how he'd been so stupid and foolish to let someone who called him 'kitten' and 'princess' so cloyingly into his bed. Somewhere inside of him, the baby kicked hard. He stood up suddenly. 

"I'm- I feel sick," He said, and rushed off hurrying into the women's bathroom. 

He held his stomach, leaning up against a bathroom stall and panting. He could throw up just thinking about this thing inside him- this baby recognizing his dad's voice. It disgusted him. It made him feel dizzy. 

He sat down on the edge of the toilet seat, head in hands, biting back tears. How stupid did he have to be to get himself into this situation?! He'd won the gold medal, he went to the afterparty intent on celebrating, only to get himself knocked up with JJ's stupid spawn. It was ridiculous. He knew that Yuri Plisetsky should've known better than that. Why hadn't he? 

Yuri took a moment to breathe, calming himself down, wiping his cheeks. When he felt like he was more steady, he got up to splash himself with a bit of water from the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked pretty. He'd always thought at least that much of himself. Even if his cheeks were chubbier, he had some things in his face that he liked. His clear blue eyes, his mother's nose, a nice pair of lips. He'd been proud of his appearance before this, when Lilia had really gotten him into shape. 

He straightened up his posture and turned on his heel, marching out the door and intent on giving the both of them a piece of his mind, that Yuri Plisetsky wasn't one to be trifold with, pregnant or otherwise. 

Back at the table, he was surprised to find Victor gathering up his things, JJ no where to be found. 

"What- where'd-?" Yuri started, hands clenched at his side in tiny little fists,

"It was too much for him. He left. We talked. I got you piroshki to go." 

Yuri frowned. 

"He also wanted me to give you this." Victor handed Yuri a large, thick yellow envelope, he took it, feeling the weight of it in his hands, biting at his bottom lip. 

"It's your compensation." 

Yuri nodded silently. Victor gathered his take out bag and jacket, leading Yuri back out to the car. 

On the way back to the hotel, Yuri opened the envelope.

Inside were several thick wads of bills. He couldn't even begin to count them, he'd never seen so much money before. Later that night, he would line them all up on the couch, counting them in piles. 500,000 Roubles. 

Before he fell asleep, he gazed over at the cracked screen of his phone for the time, only to find a missed text message. He opened it. 

canadian asshole: hey i'm sorry i left. i felt sad being there. i didnt mean to make you sick or for any of this to happen. i hope that's enough for your medical expenses and stuff. i hope you don't feel like i took advantage of you. victor seems like he's taking good care of you so i'll just not bother you anymore okay princess? maybe send me a picture of the baby when you have it. you don't have to though. sorry about this. 

Yuri felt a bit like crying after reading it but he didn't. Instead he texted him back:

it's okay. i guess. thank you for the money. ill send you a picture if you want one. im sorry, too. goodnight 

He fell asleep quickly after that, and when the baby kicked again, at three in the morning, he didn't have any trouble getting back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your kind comments! just for reference, 500,000 rub is equivalent to a little over 8,000 usd


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it starts out as a normal day. things go progressively down hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the delay, this chapter took a lot of thinking to write. i want to warn you all there is some dub-con and things do get sexual in this chapter. this is where the age difference and manipulation and all other terrible things come in. take care of yourself and don't read it if that upsets you!

Victor awoke the next morning to no big drama. He was relieved. It was nice to wake up to quiet. The sun was filtering through the blinds and he leaned over to his bedside table to turn on his phone. It was around eight. He had a text from Yuuri, his Yuuri.

He got up, bare feet padding across the floor, opening his door just slightly to check on the little Russian Yuri, sound asleep on the couch. Content with that, Victor shut his door and went back to his phone, deciding to give Yuuri a much awaited call.

He answered on the first ring.

"Victor? Hello?" Victor smiled, softened by his voice. A rush of familiarity.

"Good morning," Victor replied, 

"I was worried when I didn't hear from you! Everything okay? Are you with Yuri? I saw his post." Although Victor had figured that Yuuri would've seen it, he was still a bit surprised, scared, for a moment, that Yuuri had somehow been able to read his mind over the past several days. 

"Um, yes, I am. Everything is fine. He just needs someone to look after him right now. I don't know how long I'll be here-" God, he couldn't just stay four months with the boy, "-But hopefully, I'll be back before you return!" 

He was silent for a moment, and then added, softly, "I miss you." 

Did he? Was that true? It was hard for him to separate, what he felt like, was two different lives he was living. This Victor, the one on the phone, loved his fiancé, and was away on personal matters. But the Victor that would leave this bedroom, he was something else. He was bewitched by the little boy sleeping in the next room. Did it change his love for Yuuri? No. Did it change who he was? He supposed. With little Russian Yuri, he was someone else. 

"I miss you, too. I hope Yuri isn't too sick! There's lots of rumors going around. He's not dying, is he?" It broke Victor's heart to hear his Yuuri so concerned,

"Oh, no... I mean, he is sick, but- well," He sighed, he couldn't breech his little Yuri's trust, 

"I'll explain it all when I come back. That's fair. But you have nothing to worry about, I promise, darling." 

Yuuri made a noise of confirmation, "Alright, well, I've got a train to catch, but call me at least before you go to bed, alright? I'll make time." 

"I will."

"Love you!" 

"I love you, too." Victor sighed deeply, pressing the end call button and setting his phone back down. Messy, messy work. 

He got up, took a quick shower, got dressed. He tried not to think about Yuri. About Yuri asleep in the next room. About Yuri with his hand on his belly, and Yuri with those tiny, growing tits. It was difficult. Especially when he got out and dried off and applied that damn lotion he smelled like every day now. It just made him think about how soft he was, and oh, what a dangerous thought it was. 

It was around ten when he was ready, and he hadn't heard a noise from the other room, so he got to work quietly making breakfast. Egg, potatoes, pepper, avocado. Toast, to top it off. Sometime during cooking, little Yuri had stirred and was blinking awake; watching Victor with a fixed stare. 

He turned when he felt eyes on him, smiling warmly, "Good morning, Yuri," 

Yuri didn't reply, clearly still sleep dazed, sitting up and wiping those big blue eyes of his, stretching. 

"After breakfast, do you think you'd like to go for a walk? Or we could certainly just have a rest day. It's up to you." 

Yuri narrowed his eyes a bit, then shrugged, "Let me eat first. Then I'll have your answer." 

Victor smirked, taking his pan off the heat and filling a plate for Yuri with two pieces of toast as well. He brought it over to him, fork in hand. 

"There." 

Yuri ate in silence until he was placated, bringing the empty fork to his lips and staring upwards like he was thinking very hard. Victor admired those little blonde eyelashes. 

"I guess a walk wouldn't be awful. It's cold out, right?" Victor nodded, it'd been snowing on and off, but sunny. 

"Yeah, a walk would be alright I guess." 

"Do you have a coat?" He asked. He'd only ever seen Yuri in the same two oversized sweatshirts. 

Yuri's cheeks went pink and he wrinkled up his nose, "Not one that fits me." How endearing. Victor liked the thought of Yuri growing out of all his clothes. 

"You'll wear one of mine, then." 

"No dress this time?" Victor laughed, 

"No dress this time." 

Yuri handed his empty plate to Victor and went off to the bathroom to get ready. He returned about fifteen minutes later with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, some of the front strands hanging down by his full cheeks. He was dressed in a baggy black t-shirt and some black jeans, which Victor noticed had an elastic band across the top that made room for his belly. 

Victor fetched his coat from the closet, just a black parka, the only jacket of his he could imagine Yuri in. He helped Yuri into it, much to his distaste, going as far as to zip it up for him. 

It fit, mostly, but in the way that a son looks in his father's clothes. Baggy at the shoulders, the sleeves too long. The coat concealed his middle very well, though, and Yuri felt comfortable in it. He liked the way it smelled, although he'd never say so to Victor. 

Once they left the hotel room, Victor offered Yuri his arm, which he took, staring at the ground. He was always so quiet when they went outside. 

There was a park nearby. It was a little snowy, but people were still out walking their dogs. It wasn't incredibly busy, either, and Victor figured Yuri wouldn't be too incredibly anxious that someone would recognize him, especially with his hood pulled up around his face. He looked warm. 

"So. You spoke to JJ, I assume?" Victor finally asked after they had walked in silence for a few minutes, curious if anything had transpired between the two.

"Mhm." Yuri replied, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

".. And it went well?" He continued, and Yuri scrunched up his nose.

"As well as it could've gone, I guess," Yuri shrugged, thinking about the message he'd recieved. It had gone well. Everything was okay. Sort of. 

"I mean- yeah, it went good. He's not going to bother me anymore." Victor grinned sideways at this. Always the cynical one. 

"Oh, so you're still not a couple?" He was mostly teasing. 

"Shut up, Vitya," He nudged his arm with his pointy little elbow, "We weren't ever a couple, that's for damn sure." 

Victor absorbed this information and filed it away. He'd been trying to piece together the night of conception without actually asking point blank. Six months ago was the Grand Prix, after all. 

"Don't think I can't add things up myself, Yuratchka. It must've happened at the after party. Or the night before, in the hotel. Although, I doubt you'd risk not being in peak condition." 

Yuri's face went bright red and Victor realized he'd touched a sore spot. 

"Oh, fuck you," Yuri huffed, causing a passerby to stare, "You call this peak condition?!" He gestured at himself.

Victor laughed and pat Yuri firmly on the back, putting him back in his place, 

"Don't cause a scene, little one, I was only joking. I'm just curious, that's all, can you blame me?"

"Well, I'm not telling!" Very much the child, Yuri stomped his way back to the hotel. 

He took the bedroom when he returned, slamming the door behind him and making quite the scene, exactly the opposite of what Victor had told him. He took off his jacket and his pants as soon as he was alone. Clothes were so uncomfortable. 

Yuri could hear Victor in the kitchen, but he didn't try to come into the bedroom, he gave Yuri his space. 

He crawled into bed, flopping back against the pillows, resting both his hands on his belly and staring down at it with a half grimace. He was hungry again. But he wasn't about to go traipsing back into the living room, oh no, he was staying right here. He patted himself on the stomach; a quick "just wait, please" for the baby. 

What a strange, terrible predicament he'd gotten himself into. Victor was here, doting on him, giving him the attention he'd always wanted, but what was he supposed to do about it? Throw a fit every other day and eat like a pig whenever he put food in front of him? How embarrassing. 

He remembered when he was much younger and Victor had 'discovered him'. Yuri had thought he was amazing, that he could do anything. He'd taken Yuri under his wing and he'd felt so special, he would've done anything for Victor, anything he asked for, Yuri would've given him. And Victor had been all dazzling smiles and big promises. He'd make Yuri a champion. He'd choreograph this and this and oh, "Yuri, you remind me so much of myself". 

It had been something like love, the idolization. He'd been seven years old and imagining himself marrying Victor one day, in fact, he couldn't decide whether or not he'd wanted to marry him or become him. It had all been spectacular until Victor forgot about him and broke every promise he'd made. And even then, Yuri had chased him to Japan, desperate to prove himself. Pathetic. 

And now, finally, at his lowest point, Victor has returned to Russia for him, and all Yuri could do was act like a child and cry. He felt like crying right then, half in frustration and half that he couldn't lay on his belly where he imagined he'd be much more comfortable. He felt like a stupid little kid. Did he love Victor? He didn't know. The admiration, the need to prove himself, to feel wanted, still lingered; but the image was somewhat shattered of perfect Victor, and he certainly didn't want to marry him. 

If Victor held any respect for him in his heart, he was sure it was gone now, having seen him like this. He sighed, rolling onto his side with a pitiful whimper, the threat of tears rolling down his cheeks. His chubby cheeks! He'd never been so fat! He sobbed into his pillow and hugged himself. What a mess. 

Victor, who had been busying himself in the kitchen, tidying up and wondering what Yuri would like for lunch, heard the tiniest cry from the bedroom and immediately got up to eavesdrop. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened to Yuri's muffled sobbing. He wondered if Yuri would be more annoyed if Victor went to check on him, or if he wanted comfort. He waited, silently, and when the cries still didn't stop, he gently opened the door. 

There his little Yuri was, curled up around his belly and holding himself, hiccuping out those little pained cries. He was such a messy crier, and it was something Victor had always liked to watch. He sat down next to him on the bed, and when Yuri didn't react or tell him to get out, he smoothed down his hair, shushing him. 

"Yuratchka," He said quietly, keeping his voice low, trying to calm him down, "Why are you crying?" 

He rubbed his back in a gentle, circular motion, noticing only now that Yuri was just in his underwear, and raising his eyebrows slightly,

"I know I didn't upset you this much at the park." 

Yuri finally looked up at him, his eyes red and puffy, 

"I'm just-" He breathed in sharply, half a gasp, "I'm just embarrassed- I feel stupid and," Big, salty tears ran down his pink cheeks, "I feel fat and I don't want to do this anymore!" 

Victor sighed. It was hard to control himself when Yuri let all his walls down like this. He was so small and trembling and venerable. Desperate for validation and attention. If Victor did exactly what he wanted, he'd kiss him silly and taste those big tears and claim him right there. 

"Why don't-" He bit his lip, trying to keep his voice even, "I make you some tea? Hm?" 

Yuri nodded tearfully, and Victor got up, walking back into the kitchen to boil some water. He poured a cold glass for himself, downing it in one large sip, running his hand through his hair. God, Yuri had absolutely no idea what he was doing to him. It made his head spin. 

An image he couldn't shake was Yuri on his knees, taking Victor's cock in his mouth like it's what he was born to do, those red, puffy eyes brimming with tears. If he coughed and spluttered, Victor wouldn't mind. He'd smooth down his hair like he always did, tell him what a wonderful job he was doing, and Yuri would glow for him. He always glowed when Victor complimented him on the ice. It'd be just like that:

"Beautiful job, Yuratchka." 

"Just a bit more-" 

He was interrupted by the sharp whistle of the kettle and sobered up immediately. He grabbed two mugs, the tea bags and poured sugar and milk into each one, then the hot water. 

He carried the cups into the bedroom. Yuri was sitting up, now. wiping his cheeks. His legs were crossed and Victor had full view of his pale, soft thighs. His stomach sat in his lap, round in front of him. He looked big. A bit bigger than when Victor had first arrived. His own stomach did a flip, at that thought. 

"Here, darling," He sat down, handing Yuri the warm mug which he cupped in his little hands, sipping out of it.

Yuri didn't say thank you, which Victor expected, and he set his mug down on the bedside table, resting a hand on Yuri's back once more. 

"It hurts." Yuri said after a moment, his voice thick with tears.

"What hurts, little one?" He asked, still speaking as gently as he could.

"My back." 

Victor nodded, moving his hand up and down from between Yuri's shoulder blades to the small of his back. 

"Want me to help?" He asked, and Yuri nodded shakily. Victor got up, taking the mug from the boy and setting it down next to his own, opening the drawer underneath and taking out that godforsaken lotion. 

"Sit in front of me." Victor settled back down on the bed, his legs spread, and Yuri settled between them, facing away. Victor felt warm. He was so, so close to him. He could smell Yuri's shampoo. 

"Do you want me to-" Yuri sounded timid, something Victor wasn't used to hearing in his voice. It made him half hard. 

"To what?" Oh, God, he had never promised to be a good man. He could hear his heart in his ears and prayed Yuri couldn't hear it too. 

"Take off my shirt?" Victor could've died happy right there. It hadn't even be his idea. He shouldn't be allowing this. 

"If you're alright with it, Yuratchka." His voice had come out so low and smooth. Did this count as seducing? Yuri must have sensed the change in the air as well, because Victor could see a flush of red at the tips of his ears. He wished he could see his face. 

Yuri didn't reply, but his fingertips found the hem of his shirt and he pulled upwards, revealing the pale expanse of skin that was his back. He had always had bones like a bird, so light and small, but sharp. His shoulder blades revealed themselves so delicately. He could see a bit of his spine, every part of him was graceful. 

Yuri, meanwhile, was a bit cold. He was glad Victor couldn't see his breasts, because his small, pink nipples had hardened from the exposure. What was he doing? Did Victor know the implications of this? Yuri wasn't about to quit while he was ahead, for the first time since the Grand Prix, he felt like an adult. And Victor, Victor was giving him his full attention. 

Victor pumped the lotion into his hand generously, warming it up. The light vanilla smell, something completely innocent, now reminded him of every sleepless night he'd had since arriving in Russia, thinking only of the boy seated practically in his lap. 

He started up high, those slender, delicate shoulders. The slope of Yuri's neck. His skin was soft, deliciously so, and he melted at the touch, relaxing immediately against Victor's hands. 

Victor rubbed circles into him, his fingers gentle, like Yuri was something he could break, moving lower and lower. He squeezed the sides of his hips, feeling where the expanse of his stomach began to swell outward, he could see Yuri's blush creeping down the nape of his neck. 

He wasn't stopping him, he wasn't squirming away in typical fashion- perhaps Victor had gone about this in completely the wrong way. Perhaps Yuri had wanted him, as well. Could he even want? He was so small and so clearly just a child, but the evidence was not something that could be ignored, sticking out square between his hips. That not-so-little bump that Victor had been agonizing over. He wasn't pure. He had desires. He'd been touched and debauched- god, it made Victor mad. 

And then, it suddenly got much worse. Victor rubbed a spot just below his shoulder and Yuri outright moaned. His head drooped to the side in pleasure and he keened against his touch. 

Yuri surprised himself with the noise that he'd made. Was he trying to seduce him, now? Had he always been such a little slut? It was hard not to stop now that it felt like Victor was his. If this was what it took, he would've done it in Japan all those months ago. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this situation. Or, maybe he would. He bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe if it was Victor's baby in him, he wouldn't feel so terrible about himself. 

Victor would've gone back to Russia with him. He would've been his coach. He let out another soft moan, letting his eyelids flutter shut. With a whimper of embarrassment he realized he'd never been so wet before. He silently prayed he wouldn't leave a spot on the bed. What a predicament. 

He remembers back when he was eleven, twelve, and Victor would adjust his stretches. He'd always felt embarrassed and warm when Victor's hands would brush his thighs, when he'd put a firm hand on his lower back in support. If only he could go back and tell himself where precious Vitya touched him now. 

"Vitya-" Yuri whimpered softly, hot all over. He could hear Victor's breath hitch in response. Yuri very carefully edged backwards until he could feel Victor behind him. 

He almost jumped when he felt Victor's hardness, it frightened him a little. It was one thing to flirt and fantasize, but to feel what he was doing to him was something else entirely. He didn't feel very adult anymore. His stomach felt a bit sick. Perhaps he'd gotten in over his head.

Victor leaned foreword, taking this as an invitation, pressing his lips against Yuri's scalding shoulder, kissing him gently and moving further up toward his neck. Yuri froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't back out now. This is what it meant to be wanted, he couldn't turn it down. Victor wanted him. Victor wanted him. It was a mantra he was repeating to himself over and over again. 

Victor's hands moved foreword, circling around him to cup his small breasts, thumbing his nipples gently, trying to see if he was sensitive there. Yuri fell apart in his hands, his head lolling back to rest against Victor's chest, letting out the most delicious moan. His little darling, his little Yuratchka sounded just as sweet as he'd imagined. 

He squeezed gently, and Yuri cried out, egged on, Victor continued. He moved lower, one hand moving between the boy's thighs, the other stopping at the roundest point of his belly, moving in a light, circular motion. He felt between Yuri's legs. He traced a single finger down over the cotton underwear. 

It was teasing, until he came to just above Yuri's entrance and he felt how wet he was there, his black briefs soaked through. He blinked, absolutely amazed at the slickness there, running his fingertip up and down before nudging the fabric aside and slowly poking a finger inside. There was no resistance, Yuri was so wet he took his index finger easily and without so much as a whimper. He felt inside, he was so warm, somewhat loosened by arousal, so much so that Victor slid another finger in easily. Yuri gasped that time, and Victor took that as a cue to begin to press in and out. 

Yuri felt so good he could cry. Or maybe just that he could cry. He couldn't exactly tell the difference. He could feel Victor behind him still, so hard against his lower back, and now he could feel Victor inside him, too. It was overwhelming. With JJ, it'd just been quiet fumbling, they both weren't experts, but Victor was an entirely different breed. He knew exactly where to touch and how to touch it. It made Yuri feel so small, especially when he realized the ease at which Victor's arms wrapped around him and then some. He was encased in him, almost entirely naked, whereas Victor was fully clothed, and so much bigger. He rut his hips against Victor's hand clumsily, embarrassed when he felt his breasts bounce with the momentum. 

He was so consumed with trying to decide whether or not he liked the feeling of being completely surrounded by Victor, inside and out, he hardly heard the knock on the door. He wondered, for a second, if maybe it was something else, and then the doorbell rang, and it was unmistakable.

Yuri gasped softly and pushed at Victor's hand, feeling immediately very empty.

"Go! Get out, someone's here," He whispered hoarsely, finally turning around to look Victor in the eye.

He looked white as a sheet, and seemingly very distracted with looking at Yuri head on, eyes going from his breasts, to his belly, to his dripping all over the bed. 

Yuri went dark red and felt that sick feeling again, quickly tugging his oversized black shirt on and wiping himself up with his soiled underwear, 

"I told you. My grandpa comes once a week. He can't-" Yuri let out a frustrated huff, finding some pajama shorts he'd tossed on the ground nights before, "If he sees me like this, he'll kill you. Understand?" It was so hard to think straight. 

Victor had met Yuri's grandpa many times before. He was a stern man, but very loving, and Victor would much rather have died right there than been caught in the act of debauching his precious grandson. He thought quickly. 

"Lay down." He directed Yuri, which he did obediently. He tugged the blankets over top of him, tossed all the forgotten clothes into the closet and shut the door, including the godforsaken lotion.

He hurried into the bathroom, splashed himself with cool water and wiped off his hands thoroughly. He had never promised anyone that he was a good man. 

He took a deep breath and marched into the  
living room, opening the door and greeting Nikolai Plisetsky with all things calm and confident, charming smile completely intact.

"Nikolai! Wonderful to see you. It's been so long." He shook his hand, the opposite one that had been inside Yuri only moments before.

The older man grunted a hello in response, clapping Victor on the back,

"I brought piroshki over for Yuri... he's here, isn't he?" Nikolai peered around the empty living room, pleased to see it cleaner than the last time he had come. Yuri had texted him that Victor had come to visit and he was somewhat relieved someone had come to take care of him. He'd stay himself if his health allowed it. 

"Yes, he's here. Unfortunately he's feeling a little under the weather. He's in the bedroom." Victor was relieved when Nikolai just nodded grimly, walking into the bedroom without another word. 

Yuri was frozen underneath the blankets, red all the way up to his ears. He could throw up, or cry. Both seemed likely. When he saw his grandpa's face, he almost burst into tears on the spot, but he didn't want to embarrass himself more than he already had. He felt like someone had come to rescue him from all these adult things he'd somehow been caught up in. His grandpa always made him feel like a kid again; safe.

"Grandpa!" Yuri croaked, voice shaking slightly. His grandpa smiled gently and reached down to feel his forehead.

"You feel hot. Hope you've been taking care of yourself." Yuri nodded obediently, noticing the plastic bag his grandpa carried in his other hand,

"Did you bring me a treat?" He asked, glowing. He almost sat up, but he was instantly reminded of the slickness between his thighs. It was starting to feel cold. He felt dirty, like he needed a bath. He wanted to scrub himself clean. 

"Don't wear yourself out, Yuratchka. I won't stay for dinner tonight. Why don't you go back to sleep?" 

Yuri bit his lip and nodded, "But you'll come back next week?" 

"I'll come back next week. Is Victor taking good care of you?" He looked Yuri in the eyes and for some reason, Yuri felt like he had to know. The shame of it made nausea roll through him again. 

"Yes." He said, bottom lip trembling, "And next week, he'll make us all dinner!" He forced a small smile.

His grandpa was pleased with that, and kissed him on the forehead. Yuri blinked back tears. 

"Alright, Yuri," He got up, turning to leave the room. 

"Wait-" Yuri said, suddenly feeling panicked. He sat himself up on one arm, his grandpa turned around again,

"You still- you still love me even though-" He was blubbering like a child.

Nikolai sighed, smiling down at Yuri, although a bit sadly, 

"Of course I still love you. Go to sleep." 

Yuri nodded, reassuring himself. 

"Alright..." he peered up at the bag of piroshki left on the bedside table, next to the cold mugs of tea, "I'll see you soon, okay?" 

"Okay." His grandpa called over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

Yuri started crying after that, and this time, Victor didn't come check on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i've been appreciating your comments so much. 
> 
> here's a list of songs i've been listening to while writing (and that inspire the fic): 
> 
> parting gift, fiona apple (obviously)   
> f*ck and run, liz phair   
> 6'1", liz phair   
> tymps (sick in the head song), fiona apple  
> cigarette daydreams, cage the elephant 
> 
> please let me know what you thought of this chapter and check out the songs if you want  
> love,  
> mells


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yuri and victor come to an agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this chapter is okay! it felt weird to write. let me know if it sux in the comments below

Yuri woke up the next morning and felt bad. His eyes were puffy from crying the night before and it made his head ache in a way that reminded him of being a child. He rolled onto his side with a bit of effort and immediately stilled. Victor was sleeping next to him. 

Victor asleep was something very few were privy to seeing. He looked much younger with his face completely relaxed and his eyes shut tight, his lashes stark against his pale cheeks. Yuri was somewhat awestruck. He was in the bed, after all. That was where he'd told Victor to sleep. 

He felt groggy. It must've been early in the morning because the sun was barely up. The night before, he'd fallen asleep around dinnertime. It had meant to be a nap, but he supposed he'd just ended up sleeping through the night. 

The weight of Victor next to him in bed made him feel nervous and he turned over to grab his phone off the bedside table, flicking through any notifications he'd gotten while he was asleep.

His general social media presence had died down since he'd become unable to post every single day (twice a day), but he did still have loyal fans. They'd taken to scrapbooking old photos of him together and posting them on Instagram with sweet little get well soon messages. He never liked them or commented on them, but they made him feel not so alone, even if they were a little silly. Like he had something to come back to after this mess was over. Yuri ran his hand tentatively over the expanse of his belly, furrowing his eyebrows a little. He still couldn't really decide what he thought about everything. He didn't like being fat, that was for sure. 

A quiet voice in his head reminded him that Victor seemed to like it, and he bit his lip, casting another backwards glance at the sleeping man next to him. What did he want anyways, getting into bed with him? Did he still want him? 

He remembered the night before with shame and embarrassment. It had felt good, Victor's fingers, but it made him feel bad, too. He was already pregnant, Yuri reminded himself bitterly, now he had to go and sleep with someone else, too. He'd been a virgin before JJ, and now he clearly wasn't. Just his luck, that his first time would happen like this. It felt like a punishment and that left its stain on every other sexual encounter as well. 

It had always made him warm when Victor touched him, even before he knew what that meant. He had always wanted Victor's full attention, and now that he had it, would he throw it away? Or continue pressing foreword, even if something about it felt so dirty? 

Yuri supposed it was that Victor was so much older than him. And the fact he knew Yuuri was in Japan or something, with no idea about any of this. That was what really made him sick over it. Once Victor and Yuuri had settled down together, Yuri had almost looked at them as father figures. This wasn't what father figures did. 

He suddenly felt desperately alone and isolated. He wanted to talk to someone his own age. Someone who wouldn't be stupid and make him feel embarrassed about himself. 

Yuri picked up his phone again, dialing quickly before he could back out.

There were two rings until Otabek Altin answered his phone.

"Yuri? Are you okay?" 

Yuri felt incredibly relieved when he heard his voice, looking back at Victor's sleeping form with a frown and moving into the bathroom, shutting the door. 

"Um, yeah. I'm alright. I just..." He paused. Why did he call? 

"I just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't, um, an old doctor," Yuri laughed weakly. 

"Oh. Well, hello." Otabek said, that cool indifference so reassuring. He could tell Otabek he was pregnant right now and he doubt the boy would bat an eye. 

"How's training? Tell me about it." 

Otabek was obedient as always, telling Yuri what he'd been working on, how everyone else was, his theme for the next competition. Yuri listened with rapt attention, he loved hearing this. He felt in the loop again. He sat on the floor of the bathroom, legs crossed, leaning back up against the sink counter with his hand resting on the top of his belly. 

"I miss it," He sighed, "I wish I could compete this year." 

"We could certainly use the competition," Otabek agreed, and Yuri could hear a smile in his voice,

"Is it certain you won't be well enough by then?" He asked, and Yuri's heart fell into his stomach. He hated lying to the closest thing he had to a friend. 

"Otabek..." He trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek. It had made him feel disgusting before, the thought of telling Otabek, which is why he'd avoided his phone calls and texts, but now, he really had no one else. 

Victor knew, sure, but Victor was something else now, and he felt oh so alone in this dumb hotel room. 

"I wasn't telling the truth; when I made that post on Instagram, and stuff." Otabek was quiet on the other end of the line. 

"I'm sort of sick. But not, like, well- not probably how you think." He could hear him draw in a short breath, and then,

"How are you sick then?" 

Yuri's heart felt caught in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He glanced down at his stomach warily. 

"I'm having a baby. Kind of. I'm not keeping it, I'm just- I'm pregnant, I guess." He held his breath. Maybe Otabek would hang up on him and never talk to him again.

"Oh. I thought you had cancer or something." Yuri let out the most breathy, relieved laugh. It was almost a sob, but the tears stayed stuck in his throat,

"Nope- not dying. Just fat." 

"I'm glad you're not dying. Sorry you're fat. I'm assuming you don't want me to tell anyone about this?" 

Yuri wiped his cheeks, nodding although Otabek couldn't see him. He had to know how much this meant to him, to be accepted without any confrontation or questions. 

"Yes- yeah. Please don't," He laughed again, "It's so stupid, isn't it? I hate it." 

"It's pretty stupid. You'll be back competing next year, right?" 

"Of-fucking-course I will. And I'll beat everyone again." 

"If you say so, Yuri." He grinned widely. It seemed closer now, then ever. Getting back on the ice. 

"Um, I guess I better go. Thanks for talking to me. Maybe I'll see you around." 

"Yeah, maybe. Goodbye, Yuri." 

"Goodbye." He hung up. 

Yuri sat on the floor for a bit, just thinking about how much easier everything would've been for him if he would've told Otabek right away instead of ignoring him. Maybe he'd be here instead of Victor. It made his heart feel funny. 

He got up, clinging onto the edge of the sink for support. The extra weight around his middle had really thrown him off balance lately. He figured he'd gotten bigger, probably. It sure felt like it. He looked in the  
mirror, turning to the side, and then the front, eyeing himself. Definitely bigger. 

Yuri pulled up his phone's camera, turning to the side and placing his hand just above his bump, accentuating it. He stuck his tongue out in an irritated sort of way and snapped a photo. 

He pulled up his messenger and composed a text message to Otabek. 

It was the picture he'd taken, and then the word "evidence" following by that side-eye looking emoji. Then the eye roll one. He sent it.

Yuri crept into the kitchen after that, extremely cautious not to wake up Victor. He didn't want to deal with him yet. 

Of course, without Victor awake there would be no elaborate breakfast, and Yuri's stomach growled at the thought. He'd skipped dinner last night and now he was starving. All he trusted himself to make  
was cereal, so, he climbed up onto the counter to grab the box and a bowl, carefully getting down. 

His grandpa had never let him do that at home, always chiding that he'd break his leg and never skate again, to which Yuri would stick his tongue out petulantly. 

Reminded of his grandpa, Yuri wondered if maybe he could reheat the piroshki he'd brought over. His stomach turned at the thought. He hadn't been fond of leftovers lately. Cereal it was.

He got the milk and sat at the table, filling his bowl up and going at it. He was embarrassed when he suddenly realized how hungry he was, and that he could probably eat the entire box of cereal if no one stopped him. 

Between bites, his phone buzzed. 

beka: No offense but you look like a house.   
beka: Boy or girl? 

Yuri wrinkled his nose, semi-offended, but also glad Otabek was joking with him. He wasn't being treated like some pariah. 

He texted back: fuck you. im glowing. 

Then: i dont know yet. i didnt bother to look.

The door to the bedroom opened and Victor  
emerged. Yuri looked up from his cereal as if he'd been caught in some terrible act, dropping his phone back to the table. He stared up at the older man with wide eyes.

"Good morning, Yura," Victor grinned and Yuri shoved some cereal into his mouth. 

"Morning." He mumbled in reply, cheeks going pink. Otabek was completely forgotten, all he could think of now was what had transpired last night. How Victor's fingers had slipped so easily into them. How they'd felt so good. 

"You slept for a very long time." Victor noted, sitting down next to Yuri and reaching over to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Yuri's ear. Yuri was awestruck, frozen at the touch. 

He half figured that he'd imagined last night, and now Victor was touching him so casually, as if he was allowed to. Yuri remembered the icy-hot feeling of shoving his things in his bag, of flying back to Russia. How scorned he'd felt when Victor had picked someone else over him. A similar feeling is in his throat now, but it's different, because Victor is picking him, now. Victor wants him. 

"Last night-" Yuri says before he can stop himself, he'd always talked way too much, 

"You-" 

Victor is smiling now, and touching his hair, stroking it gently, 

"Why don't you come back to bed, little one?" 

Yuri shuts his mouth and finds himself nodding obediently, setting down his spoon. 

Victor had woken up feeling like a God. 

Last night, he'd curled up behind Yuri with his hand on that darling belly, spooning him. His tiny frame had fit so perfectly and Yuri had keened in his sleep, pressing closer against him. 

He'd slept better than he ever had, smelling Yuri's shampoo. Feeling his softness, encasing him. How stupid, he'd thought, that he hadn't done this sooner. 

He led Yuri back into bed.

Yuri sat down, hands folded in his lap, peering up at Victor as if he'd been a child sent there for time-out. Victor sat next to him, tilting up his chin with his hands to take a good look at him, turning his head from side to side. 

"Listen, Yuratchka. I have something I want to propose to you." 

Yuri knit his eyebrows together, that petulant little stare Victor had gotten so used to, 

"What is it, old man?" Always the rebel. 

"Remember when I first came, and we played a game together? When we went to the store?" 

"When I had a dress on?" Yuri felt wary of where the conversation was headed. 

"Yes, darling, when you had the dress on." 

"Okay..." Yuri was looking at the floor, too shy to look at Victor head on,

"I am proposing that while you're here with me, we can keep playing husband and wife. I'll buy you whatever you need, I'll take you wherever you want to go. I'll even move us into a penthouse, if you'd prefer. It's just under the condition that you act accordingly." 

Yuri stared hard at the ground, his mind racing. Victor wanted to play house with him? For perks? He imagined vividly how his younger self would've jumped at the chance to be Victor's little housewife. Part of himself felt similarly. Anything he wanted, and Victor would make him feel good and loved and taken care of. And more importantly, Victor would want him. That was all he'd ever wanted. This was beating the piggy, this was winning. 

On the other hand, there was that bad terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yuuri was somewhat of a friend to him now, and Victor, well, he was an adult and Yuri very much wasn't. He was older and stronger and, supposedly, smarter. Adults were supposed to look after children, even teenagers. Victor very well could be his father, but he wanted him. Wanted him like a husband wanted a wife. Husbands and wives were supposed to share houses and have babies, teenagers and their "somewhat, could be, father figures" were not. 

"Victor..." He mumbled, and his voice shook. He sounded pitiful to himself and it made his head throb,

"Are you choosing me?" Yuri asked, becoming more and more insistent, "Do you want me? Is this a promise?" 

His primal need for stability, to be cherished, that drove everything, every choice. Over morality, over friendship. The bad feeling lingered in his stomach, but he continued on, 

"Is that right, Vitya, even like this? You still want me?" He held his belly to emphasize his point and Victor reached up to stroke his cheek. Yuri shrank away from the touch, still wide eyed. 

"Oh, Yuri," He said, "Especially like this." 

Yuri swallowed hard, composing himself. What pride did he have left at this point? Victor was offering him the world just for a stupid game, and he wasn't exactly in the position to refuse. 

He tilted his chin up coyly, narrowing his eyes at Victor.

"Fine. If that's what you want." (If I'm what you want). 

Victor took Yuri's hand in his and lifted it to his lips, those dainty fingers so easy to clutch in his much larger hand. 

"Perfect. Glad we see eye to eye on this." He stood, tugging on Yuri's hand to help him up as well,

"Now, pack your things." Victor dropped Yuri's hand, opening the closet to reveal his two suitcases that he'd packed neatly while Yuri had been eating breakfast.

"What-?!" Yuri protested, a teenager once more, "Why? I don't want to!" 

Victor shrugged, smiling sideways at Yuri and chuckling, giving his hair a light tousle,

"I found someplace better for us to stay."

It took several hours for Yuri to pack up his stuff. Between throwing multiple fits and begging Victor to tell him where they were going, it was an exhausting affair for both.

"My parents are going to be mad!"

"Quite the contrary- they're very grateful I've taken you under my wing and are relieved I've offered to cover your living expenses." 

"-Ugh!" 

He shoved the last of his clothes into his suitcase and had to sit on it to get it shut. He'd gotten dressed in leggings, a big, loose t-shirt, and some fluffy socks, too. 

"All ready, darling?" 

Yuri looked up at Victor, nodding. Victor beamed. He had never seen anything so precious: little Russian Yuri, his for the taking. 

"I'll call someone for our luggage. There's a car waiting." 

Victor picked Yuri up by the arm and led him out of the hotel room. Yuri looked behind his shoulder fleetingly, getting one last glimpse of the place where he'd been so lonely. Would the next one be any different? He doubted it. A gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how many bells or whistles it had. 

The car Victor had called was showy. There was a driver and everything, and they both sat in the back behind a divider. Victor kept his hand firmly on Yuri's back, it made him feel like a prized heifer. 

He couldn't imagine he was worth what Victor was trying to spend on him, especially when he was "damaged goods". He felt so confused... hadn't Yuuri already won this battle? 

Yuri laced his fingers underneath his heavy belly, looking up at Victor through his eyelashes,

"Can't you just tell me where we're going, already? I'm car sick." 

There he was, Victor thought, giving Yuri's side a gentle squeeze, looking like an angel but with that haughty, venomous tone of voice.

"We'll be there soon, little one," He assured him, moving his large hand to draw circles on the very small of his back again, Yuri tensed up. 

"Fine." 

When they finally pulled up to the hotel, there was little Yuri could do but stare out the window. It was a huge, grand hotel. So very much like Victor in its flashiness. 

Everything was golden and shiny, and even during competitions, traveling all around the world, Yuri had never stayed in a place like this. 

Victor jostled Yuri on the arm, and he turned sharply in response, his blonde hair whipping behind him,

"You like it, darling?" 

Yuri just gaped at him, those big green eyes fixed on him and Victor smirked, feelings as though he'd won the lottery. 

He chuckled warmly, "I'm glad." 

Their car pulled up to the front of the hotel where their luggage was waiting for them. The driver parked and came around the side of the vehicle to open the door for Yuri, he extended a hand to help him up, but he sharply refused it, placing one hand on the seat to shove himself up, his other one on his belly. 

Victor was there, suddenly, and wrapped an arm around his tiny shoulders to steady him with a brilliant, charming smile. 

"It's our first baby." He gushed to the driver, who raised his eyebrows and grunted in response.

Yuri shrank under Victor's arm, turning into his chest to hide his embarrassment. Is this what Victor wanted from him? He supposed it was. He seemed to be enjoying himself. 

They're led to the elevator with and the ride up is long. The bellhop has their luggage in a cart and stands by them in companionable silence. Yuri realizes, he's been paid not to ask questions. 

Their room is on the very top floor. The bellhop leaves their things and Victor tucks a bill into his hand silently. 

Victor opens the door for him and Yuri's eyes blow wide again. It isn't like the other hotel, dark, more like an apartment than anything. 

This place is bright, an enormous room with an enormous bed right in the middle of it. There's huge windows with a view of all of St. Petersburg, and a balcony. Yuri peers in further and he sees the bathroom, which is another wonder all on its own. Two sinks, a large jet tub and a standing shower. The TV opposite of the bed is about as large as him. And the closet- it's another matter entirely. 

He turned and caught Victor's eye in the doorway, who was watching him with something close to marvel. 

"Is this good, Yuratchka? Is it to your liking?" 

Yuri's breathe was caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say. Victor had to be a madman. Or something worse. He couldn't tell. 

"Holy shit." Was all he managed to get out, just staring at him, looking so very small in the middle of such a big room. 

"You're insane. This is insane," He pushed his bangs out of his eyes with a huff, trying to catch up with himself. 

"This is too much, Vitya- I don't," He trailed off, "I don't understand why-" 

Victor took a step forward, smirking and raising his finger to Yuri's little mouth, 

"Because I want you. That's why."


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> victor makes a bad choice. they have sex after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> morally corrupt!! horrible man victor. warning obviously for big age difference, underage, everything else in the tags.

After wandering around the hotel room and opening every drawer and cabinet, Yuri came away with one complaint.

"Vitya, I think there's been a mistake." 

He was standing in front of the open closet, staring with a frown. Victor came and stood next to him, eyebrows raised,

"And what would that be?" He drawled,

"There's already someone else's clothes in here, stupid. All the drawers have clothes in them, too. Someone left their stuff." 

Victor laughed, "No, no, little one," He reached out to pull down a hanger with a silk, peach colored robe on it. He held it up next to Yuri. It complimented the flushed tones in his skin beautifully,

"I've ordered these clothes and had them sent here. They're for us. Well," He laughed, "Most of them are for you." 

Yuri blinked, reaching out to touch the robe with something like wonder, feeling the slip of the silk between his fingers. The back was embroidered with flowers. He really was a prized whore, now.

"... How long have you been planning this?" He asked slowly, cheeks pink with the idea that Victor had only come back to Russia to covet him like this.

"Oh, y'know. Here and there." He thrust the robe into Yuri's hands, then opened a drawer to snatch up a large, fluffy towel,

"Why don't you take a bath and relax, Yuratchka? I'll put your things away. It's a beautiful tub." 

Yuri hugged the towel and the robe to his chest so as not to drop them, 

"I mean- I guess," A bath sounded nice about now. And from the look he'd gotten into the bathroom, it had been a beautiful tub. 

He turned to give Victor a warning look, which was met with a cool smile. He waddled off into the bathroom. 

With Yuri out of the picture, Victor was free to do what he'd planned. It was a terrible plan, really. He felt horrible about it, but, unfortunately, it was the only way for Yuri to truly need him. Did he really feel horrible? He stopped, tapping his chin in thought. He'd come back to that. 

He went straight to Yuri's backpack, finding his phone right in the front pocket. He'd heard him talking to Otabek that morning on the phone, giggling like a schoolgirl. He had to do something to stop their interactions completely, so Yuri would only be able to speak to him like that. Yuri would only find comfort in him. 

He went through their messages, shocked to find that Yuri had so brazenly sent a picture of himself. Stupid boy. But, oh, it was a delicious little picture. Sinful little nymph he was, sticking his tongue out like that, his tiny hand on that perfectly rounded belly, showing off. He quickly sent the photo to his own number and deleted the chat. 

He'd leak this picture, Yuri would be scandalized, and who would take the blame? Otabek Altin. The only one who Yuri had sent it to. Victor heard the bath running. 

Could he really do this? Jeopardize Yuri's reputation, his career? This boy he had loved like a son, that he'd taken care of since he was so small, much smaller. He peered into the bathroom, catching sight of Yuri in the tub. His hair was up in a messy bun and several strands fell by his face, he leaned against the slant of the tub, head tipped back, eyes fluttered shut in relaxation. The only parts of him that remained above the water level was his stomach, which stuck straight out of the water like a smooth, round island, and his knees, which showed how his thighs were parted. 

His little, dainty hands rested on his belly, and Victor's breath caught in his throat. Of course he could do this. Yuri was supposed to be his. He didn't need to skate, anyways, not if Victor kept him here, always pregnant. After this baby, they'd all be Victor's babies, and Yuri would be happy, then. Spoiled and big and round. Yes, he could absolutely do this. 

Victor emailed the picture to several news outlets that were popular with skaters under a private account. He deleted the picture from his phone as well as the emails, then, he waited. 

He waited, and watched his little tiny Yuri wash his hair through the crack in the door. He always looked so beautiful, how couldn't he go this far to keep him? It was that simple. 

Yuri drained the water. The jets had felt wonderful on his back and the hotel had provided some complimentary oils and salts for the tub, which he had enjoyed quite a bit. He hauled himself up out of the tub with some effort, smelling sweetly of lavender and soap. 

He dried off, slipping that cursed robe over his shoulders and shuddering at the softness. He hated that Victor had goaded him so easily with such fine things. Yuri caught his own eyes in the mirror, he looked like a kept pet, dolled up in silk. It was embarrassing.

Yuri applied lotion to his belly and thighs, paying extra attention to his hips. He could barely twist to get a look, but he could see in the mirror the spidery white lines of budding stretchmarks. He turned to the side to look at his belly again, ugh, he looked like a whale. 

He tied the robe under his breasts, not bothering with underwear, if that's what Victor wanted. It was short, and cut off just at mid thigh. He felt a bit cold and exposed, after baths, he usually liked to bundle up in hoodies and thick socks and leggings. 

"Vitya," He called, heading out of the bathroom, his damp hair hanging freely by his heat flushed cheeks, "Can we get some room service?" 

Victor sat on the edge of the bed, drinking in Yuri like a starving man. The steam that unfurled from the open bathroom door smelled like him, and that robe- god, it was just ridiculous, how dainty he was, besides the perfectly round middle. 

"Of course, Yuratchka," He pat the space on the bed next to him, "Come sit." 

Yuri crawled up on the bed, the robe hiking up tantalizingly above his thighs, dangling his arm off the end of the bed to pluck his phone from his open backpack.

"Woah," He said softly and he flicked through the sheer number of notifications on his home screen. Had something happened?

Yuri sat back against the pillows, opening one of the many messages. It was from Mila. 

His heart dropped. No. No way. 

mila: why didn't you tell me yuri??   
mila: when is the baby due? 

He opened the other messages, each more horrifying than the last. Congratulations and questions and numbers he didn't even know. He inhaled sharply, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Victor turned, frowning.

"Has something happened?" He asked. 

Yuri sniffed, handing Victor his phone silently. Open was a screencap of an article, featuring that darling photo, sent to him by JJ. 'Gold Medal Winner Yuri Plisetsky- Pregnancy Scandal at Sixteen?'.

"Oh." Victor said, raising his eyebrows.

"Flattering picture." He could barely get a word in before Yuri was a sobbing mess, he snatched his phone from Victor's hand and dialed furiously.

"Beka?!" Yuri said tearfully into the phone. Victor felt as if he was eavesdropping on something very private. 

"No- I don't believe you," 

"Well I only sent it to you!" 

He could hear the Altin boy on the other line, making his case. He almost felt bad. Otabek would never have betrayed Yuri's trust like that. 

"Everything is ruined! I trusted you!" Yuri's face was pink and tear slick. Victor wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he was afraid Yuri would bite him if he tried to touch. 

"Well, fuck you." Yuri smashed his thumb onto the end call button and tossed his phone across the room. 

It was definitely broken now, if it wasn't before.

"You have got to stop doing that, little one," Victor chided softly, and Yuri turned and melted into his chest, shaking with heavy, wracking sobs. 

That made it all worth it. Victor stroked Yuri's bath-damp hair, the robe was not very forgiving when he was laying down and Victor could see the beginnings of Yuri's plump, pert asscheeks, and already a gracious amount of thigh. 

"I was so stupid," Yuri cried, and Victor felt as if it was the night he'd first come to Russia, and little Yuri had clung to him for comfort. Then, he'd been afraid to touch him, now he craved it. Every touch lingered. 

"No, shh, little one," He tilted up his chin gently, wiping those tear stained cheeks, 

"It isn't your fault. Just turn your phone off. Let's play a game, hm? C'mere." He cradled little Russian Yuri in his arms, watching as the boy sniffed and whimpered, looking up at him with those big baby blues. 

Yuri was easy to maneuver into his lap. He was heavier than before, but still not heavy, and Yuri was limp and malleable in his distress. Victor cupped his cheeks in his hands and tucked his hair behind his ears. Yuri looked especially like a petulant child like this, with his hair back, his plump cheeks pink and shiny. 

"It's going to be okay, Yuratchka, we'll get through this. Listen to me," Yuri's whimpering quieted, although his bottom lip still trembled. 

"This will all blow over and for now, you're safe here. You never have to leave the hotel, if you don't want to. Everything you need is here, and if it's not, I'll go out and get it for you." He was painfully aware of Yuri's bare thighs pressed against him.

Yuri nodded tearfully, then leaned fully against Victor's chest, collapsing against him. Victor was breathless with exhilaration of Yuri's complete, utter closeness. He was curled up against him like a cat. His plan could not have gone better! He had quite literally driven Yuri into his arms. 

"I just thought- I thought we were friends," little Yuri hiccuped, those sharp little intakes of breaths reminding Victor so much of when he'd had his fingers inside him,

"I thought I could trust him!" Victor stroked his hair again, shushing him,

"I know, sweet, I know," He pressed his nose against the top of Yuri's head, inhaling him,

"But you're not alone, Yuratchka, I'm here for you." 

His little sweet Yuri tipped up his head, looking at Victor, staring with those big watery eyes and slightly parted lips. And then, he leaned up, and kissed him. 

It was wet and salty, but the softness and sweetness of his mouth was unmistakable. 

Yuri, desperate for comfort, clung to Victor, inexperienced lips doing their best, but ultimately overtaken by his own. Victor knew how to kiss the life out of him. Yuri was embarrassed, hated the feeling of clumsiness that came with being held by someone so much bigger and stronger than him. He just wanted to put the rest of the world on mute, and if Victor could do that for him, then so be it.

Victor's hands came to grip Yuri's hips, positioning him in his lap with his thick thighs on either side of him, straddling him. He was easy to kiss there, especially when Victor pressed against Yuri's thighs and urged him to buck those slender hips against his own. 

They were pressed so flush together that Yuri's belly brushed against Victor's own, flat stomach. It made Victor unbearably hard, and he was sure Yuri could feel it. He reached down, sliding his hand up underneath the robe, up to the sweet spot between his thighs. He dipped a finger inside, feeling the wetness there.

He was practically seeing stars. His little darling squirming in his lap, still crying softly, but so, so wet for him. 

"What do you want, little one?" He asked into Yuri's neck, in between kisses.

Yuri was limp, falling to the side and allowing Victor to kiss him. He rested against Victor's shoulder, wet cheeks dampening his shirt and his neck. 

"Do you want to-" Yuri sniffed, voice breaking. This was his lowest point.

He lifted his head, looking at Victor all kiss swollen, his eyes red and brimmed with tears, "Do you want to fuck me?" 

Victor didn't say anything, but he lifted Yuri up, laying him down on the bed. 

Yuri let his head loll back, barely paying attention to when Victor tugged at the tie of his robe, revealing the pale expanse of his bare skin. His belly and breasts all completely exposed. 

Victor ran his hand over his stomach, then up to one of his breasts, running a thumb over one of his pink nipples and feeling it harden underneath his touch. 

He unbuttoned his pants, tugging them off and tossing them to the side. His briefs were next, until his cock was fully revealed, completely naked from the waste down. 

Yuri gazed upwards, just to get a look at Victor undressed. He'd seen glimpses of him in the hot spring, but not hard, and he was hard now. Beads of precum gathered at the slit, and Yuri blinked, staring openly at him. Victor was huge. Of course, Yuri had figured this. His costumes had never been modest, but now, so up close, it overwhelmed him. He was scared it wouldn't fit. 

Yuri began to cry more, his tears rolling down the sides of his cheeks. This didn't cause Victor to soften at all. He used his hand a few times, prepping himself.

"Yuratchka," He mumbled, leaning over to wipe his cheeks again, "Look at me," 

Yuri looked up, then whimpered, covering his face with his hands as he cried harder. Victor shushed him, then tugged limp little Yuri into his lap and onto his cock. His breath hitched as Victor sunk into him and he was surprised at how easily he fit. It was little uncomfortable deep inside, but mostly it just felt full, and Yuri had always liked that. 

Yuri's little arms clung around Victor's neck, and Victor hissed at the warm, tight heat around him. Yuri pitifully rut against him, rocked his hips up and down, little head pressed into the crook of his neck. 

Victor groaned, he'd never felt anything so good as being inside Yuri, especially with Yuri moving against him like this.

He hadn't been worried about hurting the boy. Yuri had taken his fingers so well, and he'd been so wet and pliant every time he touched him. And, after all, this had been part of the deal. 

Yuri panted softly, trembling as Victor began to move in and out of him. It felt good to have Victor inside of him, but it made him feel incredibly dirty. He wanted this. He wanted the distraction. He didn't want to think about anything that was going on.

He wiped his cheeks and put on his brave face, using leverage from Victor's shoulders to move against him, self conscious of the way his belly brushed against Victor's skin and how his tits bounced with every movement. Victor gripped his hips hard and drove into him hard, really thrusting now. 

Yuri let out a cry, wincing at the strain of taking Victor. When Victor tilted just right, he got some friction against his clit, which made him feel warm in a place deep, deep inside. 

He wasn't crying anymore, not real tears, at least. 

"Is this what you want?" He panted, voice uneven, "You want me?"

Victor groaned, nodding, and kissing him hard on the neck, more teeth than lip, which made Yuri whine. 

"Even like this?" Yuri clutched his belly, cheeks pink, starting to enjoy the feeling of being fucked into well. 

Victor reached down to place a hand on top of Yuri's little tiny one, snapping his hips up for a particularly deep thrust. 

That was answer enough, and it was only two or three more thrusts until he spilled deep inside of him. Yuri's head fell back and he cried out at the feeling of being filled, lips parted. 

Yuri didn't finish, but he felt oversensitive, and not in the mood to try. Victor laid him back against the bed and he complied, letting his head drop against the pillow, naked, thighs covered in his own slick and Victor's come. 

"Why don't you sleep?" Victor said, his voice starteling Yuri slightly, standing up near the bed to tug his clothes back on and tidy up. 

"Whatever," Yuri quipped, closing his thighs and shuddering at the dampness between them, rolling onto his side. 

He closed his eyes eventually, although he didn't remember when. He dreamed he was in the middle of a large room and everyone he knew was staring at him. He kept hearing his phone go off, but couldn't find where it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftershock. otabek makes an appearance, there's also cake and some sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little filler. hope you guys can see how the story is shaping out

Otabek Altin was in a bad mood. 

He'd been relieved when Yuri called, after months of silence and a mysterious instagram post. After the Grand Prix, they'd really hit it off. Otabek had always had a bit of a hopeless crush on Yuri. He wasn't sure if that was really what it was, but when Yuri was on the back of his motorcycle, those dainty arms around his waist, it had all become much clearer. 

Otabek wasn't exactly relieved to find out Yuri was pregnant. No, the first thing he felt was anger. Irrational, of course. It didn't really even effect him, in the long run, except give him a better chance at gold during the next competition they'd have together. He was mad that someone had used Yuri like that, mad that he couldn't skate with him this season, mad that Yuri didn't have as much respect for himself as he thought he did.

He didn't ask any questions, it wasn't his business, but it hadn't seemed like Yuri was planning on keeping the baby. He'd said he was coming back to the ice, which Otabek figured was difficult to do with a newborn, not that he had any experience. 

Yuri was much too young to have a newborn. Otabek hadn't really been keeping track- fifteen, sixteen? He'd had a birthday recently, it had to be sixteen. It worried him. Yuri was so small, what if he got hurt? What if he couldn't skate anymore?

Oh, fuck, not that Otabek would know, because Yuri would probably never talk to him again. He sighed, head in hands. Yuri had caught him on a lunch break during training, but now he didn't feel very hungry. He was late to come back, his coach would probably be up to check on him. Maybe he'd go home early, say he was feeling sick. He did feel sick! He hadn't even saved that picture. He would never have sent it to anyone else. He was glad Yuri had confided in him. 

What had Yuri said? He was staying somewhere. He'd said something about doctors, but he'd figured that was a lie. Yuuri, Japanese Yuuri, had made a comment on Yuri's instagram post that had inferred Victor may have been with him- or at least knew. Would Victor do something like that? 

He'd always thought, watching Yuri and Victor from afar when they breezed in for competitions, all blonde and statuesque, that they had a strange relationship. Otabek had swore he'd caught a hungry look in Victor's eyes, once or twice, while Yuri stretched during warm ups. He'd never forgotten that look. Of course, his concerns had been forgotten when Victor and Yuuri had gotten engaged, but Yuuri couldn't be with him. The instagram posts didn't add up. 

Yuuri was on some trip around the world, posting a picture every day of him with friends, him eating, training. He'd never seen Victor in any of them. 

On a hunch, he checked Victor's instagram. It was dead. There'd been a post a week ago- St. Petersburg! Victor had to be with Russian Yuri, which meant, perhaps, Victor was the only other person to have access to the photo. 

But that still didn't make sense. Why would Victor do something like that? Otabek sighed. He didn't exactly know what to do, or even what he could do, but he had a very, very bad feeling about the entire situation. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

In St. Petersburg, Yuri woke with a start. He'd only slept for an hour and a half, but he was still surprised to find himself naked. He felt cold, tugging the covers around himself. He remembered hazily that the horrible thing had happened, and then Victor had fucked him. He touched his face, his eyes felt swollen from crying and it made his whole body feel sore. Or maybe that was from something else. 

Victor ran a hand down Yuri's tiny shoulder, nudging him, and Yuri almost jumped out of his skin. Victor sat next to him in bed, a book in hand.

"You're awake, good. You need to eat something. I got room service, I was worried it'd be cold by the time you woke up." Yuri blearily rubbed his eyes, blinking over at the cart of food that sat just by the bed.

A pile of piroshki. Cheese, bread, fruit, crackers. An enormous chocolate cake. Yuri realized very suddenly how hungry he actually was, he hadn't eaten all day.

"I hope you find something you like. I guessed." 

Yuri snatched a piroshki off the cart and went to work on it, not bothering with a plate. 

"Not as good as my grandpa's," He mumbled, between swallows, "But good." 

Victor smirked, ruffling Yuri's hair. It had dried a bit funny. How cute. His pert little breasts looked so sweet and pink, but he could see goosebumps on those pale shoulders. He got up to fetch Yuri and oversized shirt from the closet. It had a sequined tiger on it, which he thought was hilarious. 

Yuri tugged the shirt over his head, feeling a lot more comfortable when he wasn't so exposed. He could feel Victor's eyes on him, watching him so carefully. 

He held out his little hand and cleared his throat,

"A plate?"

"Here," Victor handed him a plate and fork, and Yuri went to work on cutting himself a healthy slice of chocolate cake.

He hadn't had cake in a very long time. Lilia had absolutely forbidden it. He remembered a time when he was much younger, and he didn't worry about food at all. It had to be when he was five or six. By the time he was eight, he was being put on special diets. No carbs, not much sugar. Protein, protein, protein. It'd probably stunted his growth, all the calorie counting. 

With that thought in mind, he took a large bite of the cake without care. It was so rich and sweet, he wondered if his eyes had been too big for his stomach. He frowned, and glanced down at his belly, the way it poked out underneath the gaudy, sparkling tiger. No, there was no way that was possible. 

"Vitya," he says between bites, "I'm done fucking around." 

Victor looks over at him with his eyebrows raised, letting out a small laugh, "And what do you mean by that, little one?" 

"I mean that if everyone knows, everyone knows. So, fuck it. It sucks. But I should be able to go outside like everyone else and I don't want to wear anymore stupid dresses." 

"Fine by me." Victor quipped in response, picking at his salad.

"Why'd we have sex?" Yuri asked next, perfectly casual, his slice of cake almost eaten, "You're engaged. And you could be my dad. Did you forget?" 

Victor almost spits out his food, his face is red. 

"Yuratchka-" He swallowed hard, "Little one. I believe we already spoke about this." 

"You said you wanted me, but I don't understand why. Y'know-" Yuri held up his finger, on the brink of a tangent. Victor could tell. 

"I don't know why you didn't do anything to me before. I would've done anything for you. I chased you all the way to fucking Japan and you didn't bat an eye. You still picked him. I really would've done anything." He brought one of the last bites of cake to his lips with a sigh, "It's stupid, I think. That you waited until I was all ruined and you have someone else. That's so stupid, Vitya." 

Victor gazed lovingly at Yuri, then reached up to wipe some chocolate off his upper lip.

"Oh, Yuratchka," He smiles, "You weren't old enough for me." 

"Don't lie." Yuri chides, handing Victor his empty plate, "And cut me another piece. You used to adjust my stretches on barre, do you remember? I was twelve, probably. But I liked it. I'm practically the same as I am now, except I look like a goddamn whale." 

"You look beautiful," Victor interjects, cutting him off another healthy sized piece, "I don't appreciate you talking about yourself that way." 

Yuri stuck out his tongue and pulled at his eye, "Sorry, daddy." He said in a mocking tone, Victor flinched.

"Come now, you know I'm not old enough to be your father, do the math." There were twelve years between them, plenty of years, but still, not enough. 

Yuri laughed, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of cake, "Maybe if you were like me." 

"Oh, I don't think so, Yuratchka." He sighed, deciding Yuri deserved a little more honesty from him, "I always thought you were beautiful. I suppose this-" he gestured to Yuri's belly, "Made things more apparent to me." 

"That doesn't make sense. I'm gross looking now." Victor gave him a warning look, 

"I always thought of you as very..." He trailed off, trying to think of a non-offensive word, "Very asexual. And this situation made that obviously not true. It forced me to confront some things I had been feeling towards you." 

Yuri flushed, staring hard at the ground, "Funny." He pressed his hand against his belly, taking a pause from his cake to stare down at it in thought, "So you like this?" 

"Yes," Victor said, cupping Yuri's round little belly in his hand, "I do."

"You're weird." Yuri wrinkled his nose, shoving Victor's hand away, "You're a freak." 

He smiled lopsidedly, "Oh, but you're like a ripe fruit, Yuratchka. My little plum," Yuri's cheeks flushed dark red and he hugged himself, keeping Victor from grabbing at him anymore. 

"Don't call me that!" He smacked at his hands, but it was playful now. He remembered flirting like this with JJ, and instantly felt his heart drop. The days events came back to him with a wave a nausea. How had he eaten so much cake? 

"Stop- stop-" He got up, pushing Victor away from him and stumbling out of the bed, "I'm going to be sick." 

Although he'd shoved him away, Victor followed, leading Yuri into the bathroom and making sure he wouldn't fall. Yuri made it just in time to fall on his knees in front of the toilet. As he vomited into the bowl, he could vaguely feel Victor tenderly holding his hair out of his face. He completely emptied the contents of his stomach, his eyes burning from heaving and retching. 

Victor grabbed Yuri his toothbrush and toothpaste, helping him up when he was sure he was finished and closing the lid on the toilet so he could slump him there. Yuri limply took the offering and began to briskly brush his teeth, suppressing little coughs from the burn in his throat. He hated throwing up. 

He stood shakily to spit into the sink, rinsing his toothbrush off and doing a once-over of just water, trying to make himself feel clean again. When he was finished, he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy from crying and he looked pale from throwing up, big black circles ringing his eyes. 

"I look like shit," He mumbled, sniffing as he tucked his hair behind his eyes, trying to look a bit more presentable. 

Victor stood behind him, pressing both hands on each of his shoulders, dwarfing him, "You look like a mother should. Now, come drink some water, you're going to get dehydrated." 

Yuri scoffed at the mother comment, turning away from Victor's grasp to head back into the bedroom, rifling through the mini fridge until he returned with a bottled water. He twisted the cap off and downed half of it in one go, panting when he pulled away. 

Victor watched him, as usual, arms folded across his chest. Yuri's overlarge shirt rode up when he lifted his arm and tipped his head back to take healthy gulps of water, and Victor caught sight of the underside of his belly, his soft thighs, and- of course, Yuri wasn't wearing any underwear. This boy was trying to kill him. 

"Too much cake?" He asked with a sigh when Yuri seemed to have caught his breath. Yuri shrugged in response and Victor could see him gnawing on his bottom lip.

"I just... was thinking too hard. That's all." His phone was broken on the floor somewhere, and he could barely think about what everyone must be saying about him. What names they might be calling him. And, god, he was sure he had an angry voicemail from his parents. He could almost hear his mother's voice: "So irresponsible, Yuri!" and "We thought better of you, Yuri!" and, now, he was sure, "Everyone knows what a little slut you are, now, Yuri!" 

He inhaled sharply, trying not to start crying again, or hyperventilating, or worse. The best thing he could do was keep it out of his mind. He couldn't think about his twitter or his instagram or stupid, stupid Otabek. Anger bubbled up inside of him now, he'd never been so betrayed. Had it been for money? Or did he just think it was so funny, that Gold Medalist Yuri Plisetsky had gotten himself knocked up, that he had to go and tell everyone about it? He couldn't think about that, either. Not if he didn't want to have a heart attack. He'd trusted him with everything and gotten nothing in return. Worse than nothing. 

Yuri wiped at his cheeks although they were dry- force of habit- and reached out to Victor pitifully. He had to distract himself again. 

Victor scooped the boy up in his arms, laying him back against the bed. He leant down to kiss him, but Yuri pushed him away, turning his head to the side defiantly,

"Ew, I just puked," Victor planted a solid kiss on his cheek instead, which made Yuri blush more than a kiss on the lips. Victor used to kiss his cheeks when he was little when he'd done well in competitions. He couldn't remember when he stopped. 

Victor hovered over him, propping himself up on one hand near Yuri's head, the other gripping him on the waist, "I could kiss you somewhere else, if you wanted," 

Yuri went immediately stark red, "I haven't-" He furrowed his eyebrows, "I haven't done that before." Yuri hated feeling inexperienced.

"Well, you have the easy job, don't you?" Victor smirked, hiking up Yuri's shirt high enough that the underside of his breasts were revealed. He was strewn back against the pillow, Victor looming over him. 

"Just lay back, Yuratchka. I'll make you feel good," He leaned down, admiring Yuri's mostly naked form, parting his thighs with a nudge of his hand and moving foreword to press a kiss on the very innermost part of Yuri's thigh. 

He was so soft there. Yuri felt like silk to him, and tasted even better. Victor figured, when he actually got his tongue on him, he'd be like candy. 

He teased with his teeth on that sensitive part of Yuri's thigh and his back arched and he moaned beautifully. Victor was taken aback that he'd found a sweet spot so quickly. He reached up with his fingers to Yuri's entrance and, as he'd expected, he was slick and ready. Always so eager. 

Yuri's thighs were shaking and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. He was nervous for Victor to be so intimately close to him. They'd already had sex, of course, but this was different. What if he didn't look right? Or tasted bad? There was an infinite number of terrible things that could happen. It made him feel so small when Victor did things like this to him. Small and clumsy. 

And then, Victor's tongue was on him and he let out a cry of pleasure, covering his mouth with embarrassment as soon as the noise left him, flushed. He'd never felt anything like that before. He'd touched himself, but just with fingers, and JJ had done only that as well. A tongue was an entirely different sensation, and it was clear Victor knew what he was doing. 

When Victor looked up, all he could see was the round underside of Yuri's belly. It spurned him on. There he was, tasting him, licking him, and from this angle, how could it not be his baby inside of him? He'd ravished little tiny Yuri Plisetsky and made him swollen and stuffed. As if on cue, Yuri moaned "Vitya", and it was like his heart stopped. That sweet little nickname he'd called him since he was much, much smaller sounded even sweeter like this. 

Yuri's eyes slipped shut and he reached up to toy with his nipples. They'd been so puffy lately and he'd hoped it was from the weight he'd gained, and not from the inevitable milk that would come. But Victor would like that, he thought. Victor liked to see him wrecked like that. He wondered how much bigger they would get. There wouldn't be anyone to drink the milk, what then? Would it just go away? Would Victor drink it? That was a filthy thought. He shivered, arching his back slightly again. He felt so good it was overwhelming, he couldn't last much longer with Victor's tongue moving against his clitoris like that. 

It was just a few more flicks of Victor's tongue and he was coming, trembling and gasping, eyes shut tight. 

He pulled on Victor's hair to stop him, and he popped his head up, smiling that smug, lopsided smile.

"Did you finish?" He asked, and Yuri nodded hazily, eyes half lidded. 

He tugged his shirt back down over his chest and belly. He'd been aroused before, but now the thought of milk in his breasts made him sick to his stomach. 

"Tomorrow I'll take you out. As us. If you'd like," Victor came to lay beside him, throwing an arm across his middle and tugging him close easily. 

"No dresses?" Yuri asked, raising his eyebrows. 

"No dresses."


End file.
